


Sanctuary

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Love at First Sight, Loving Marriage, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: This story will roughly follow the plot of Heavensward as a Haurchefant/WOL fic, then afterTHAT POINT, switch to an Aymeric/WOL fic and jump forward to post 5.0 Shadowbringers, with an arranged political marriage plot.This story assumes a female Warrior of Light. All smut chapters will be separate from the main story, so if you'd prefer to skip them, you may.This story uses the InteractiveFics Browser Extension so that you can insert yourself. You will need to set the following substitutions.(Y/N) - Your WOL's Given Name.(L/N) - Your WOL's Family Name.(R/N) - Your WOL's race name. (Don't forget to capitalize the first letter!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys like this fic. It's been rattling in my brain to get out for a while. Please let me know what you think! Also, for updates on my fics or just to chat, you can hit me up on twitter, @amandaterasu. 
> 
> If you can, please take a moment to leave a review! I find them very motivating for my writing.

**Haurchefant**  
**Many Years Ago**

“You are to be given a most distinct honor,” Haurchefant’s father, Count Edmont de Fortemps, said, pacing before him in his study. His arm was still bandaged. “Your heroism in saving young Francel yesterday has not gone unnoticed. Count de Haillenarte is well connected. He dines with His Eminence regularly.”

“So…” Haurchefant said slowly, “You aren’t cross with me?”

Edmont stopped pacing, and finally looked at him, his face mildly surprised. “N-No, not at all, Haurchefant. I am quite proud of you. You brought great honor to House Fortemps, and saved a young lordling. You showed courage, determination, and skill at arms. Count de Haillenarte has spoken with Archbishop Thordan, and it has all been decided.”

“What has been decided?” His father was always this way - bad at emotions, talking around an issue rather than saying it outright. Sometimes, you just had to pin him with questions.

The Count de Fortemps chuckled. “You are to be knighted, on the morrow. It will, admittedly, be a small ceremony given your…” Edmont frowned. Haurchefant knew his father loved him, but also knew he regretted the circumstances of his birth. “... situation. That is also why a number of other knights have elected not to join you in your vigil.” 

Haurchefant glanced askance, focusing on the fire. While he was excited, and honored to receive his spurs, it seemed even in knighthood, his illegitimacy would follow him. _You would think after all these years, it wouldn’t bother me anymore._ When a man was knighted, he would spend the night before fasting and praying within the vault, in the company of other knights who wished to show their support for his ascension. 

“However, we have found four, so nothing is improper, my boy,” Edmont continued.

“Whom?” he asked, still a little sullen. 

His father smiled. “Count de Haillenarte and I will both join you, as will your elder brother, Artoirel, and Sir Aymeric de Borel, of the Temple Knights. Young Francel asked to join as well, but as he is yet a boy, and most certainly not a knight, it is not appropriate.”

“I understand the three of you, but why Sir Aymeric?” Haurchefant raised an eyebrow to his father.

It was Count de Fortemps turn to glance askance. “Sir Aymeric once found himself in the same situation. Being knighted while being…” 

“... a _bastard_.” Haurchefant finished for his father. 

Edmont winced. “Yes. Sir Aymeric has also volunteered to take you carousing tomorrow evening,” he said by way of placation.

Haurchefant blushed, hard. He’d heard of _carousing_, another tradition, where the newly-made knight would be taken around by his new brothers to various taverns and brothels, paying for him to enjoy certain delights of which boys of Haurchefant’s age usually only fantasized.

He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. “I know this may not be comfortable for you, Haurchefant, but this will open doors that I, even with my influence, cannot. Your life _will_ change, and for the better. You will be a knight of House Fortemps, with all the privileges that provides, and no one can say you have not earned them.”

“Not even…?” He let the question trail off, but glanced out the door, towards the stairs. Towards the Countess de Fortemps rooms.

“Especially not your step-mother,” Edmont’s face hardened. “You are my son. This time tomorrow, you will be a knight of House Fortemps, have your spurs and all, and I will be lecturing Sir Aymeric to make sure he doesn’t get you into _too_ much trouble. And then you will join the family at dinner the next day, and every day after that you would like.”

Haurchefant nodded. “I will make you proud of me, Father.”

“Oh, my son,” The Count smiled. “You already have.”

* * *

**A Few Years Later**

“So there we were,” Haurchefant laughed, half-drunken, leaning over the bar, “_both of us_ trying to make excuses to the other about why we didn’t want to go in to the ‘establishment’ without coming out and saying it.” Francel and Aymeric both laughed, the former at the situation, the latter at the memory.

“You have to understand, Francel,” Aymeric interjected, “We were both so desperately trying not to shame the other for wanting to go carousing, that it took us a good two hours to realize that _neither_ of us wanted to go.” 

“That poor madame,” Francel said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “How long did you keep her standing there?” He’d never had a head for wine, but it was his birthday, and the two knights, fast friends after that night, felt it necessary to take the youngest of their little trio out for drinks and away from his father’s boring gala. 

“Oh, Halone,” Haurchefant said, looking into his stein and chuckling, “She went back in after forty-five minutes, told us to come in when we’d made up our minds.”

“Why didn’t you just go for it?” The boy asked. “It’s just women. I’m sure you face more terrifying things every day.” He laughed, but he was alone.

The smiles died on Haurchefant and Aymeric’s faces, and their eyes met, remembering the part of that night they didn’t talk about with others.

>   
Aymeric sat on the guardrail, wine bottle in one hand, looking out over Foundation. “I came to the same conclusion myself, about your age.”
> 
> Haurchefant sighed. “So we’re the odd ones out. Two knights of Ishgard who actually think twice about the consequences of their actions.” He held out his hand, and the older knight passed him the bottle. “How did you get out of it, after you were knighted?”
> 
> “I snuck spoiled shellfish into the lunch reception my mother held, and ate it amongst the other food.” Aymeric chuckled while Haurchefant took a swig from the bottle. “By the time the Sir Grinnaux came to collect me, I was terribly sick, retching uncontrollably.”
> 
> The younger knight offered the bottle back, but Aymeric shook his head, lifting a second from the satchel beside him, and pulling the cork with an experienced flick of his pocket knife. Haurchefant laughed and lifted his bottle. “To Sir Aymeric and Sir Haurchefant, two bastard knights who refuse to make any more bastards.” 
> 
> Aymeric tapped the neck of his bottle to the neck of Haurchefant’s, and the two men drank until the sun streaked the sky with pink.  


  
Aymeric shook his head. “Maybe when you’re a knight, you’ll understand.”

“Until then, Francel,” Haurchefant added, slapping the boy’s back. “Keep wooing them with poetry.”

* * *

Together, Aymeric and Haurchefant dumped the boy into a bed at the inn, and walked back towards the Pillars. They were silent, for a time, until Haurchefant spoke.

“Do you think we’ll ever find anyone?” he asked.

Aymeric shrugged. “Halone willing. Though we’ll have to look beyond the city walls, I fear. No woman of breeding will wed a bastard, and our fathers consider the women of the Brume beneath us.”

“Mayhap you’ll find a merchant’s daughter?” Haurchefant said, tilting his head toward his friend.

“I hope not,” the older knight chuckled. “How could I relate to someone who knows nothing of the battlefield? I tell you, Haurchefant. Being a bastard has one distinct advantage - no one will complain if we marry for love.”

Haurchefant nodded in agreement. “I have always wanted to save someone. You know how it is, be that shining hero, rescue the damsel in distress, win her heart and have her flutter her eyelashes at you and call you her hero.”

_”My Hero,”_ Aymeric teased, lifting his voice to a playful falsetto. “For what it’s worth, I hope you find your damsel, Haurchefant.”

“And I hope you find your warrior, Aymeric.”

The leader of the Temple Knights laughed. “So do I. But I fear that I may leave her a widow. I’ve seen what happens to the widows of bastards.”

“Then let’s make a pact, you and I.” Haurchefant said, turning to Aymeric. “If one of us leaves a widow, the other will make sure she’s taken care of, no matter what.” Aymeric said nothing, pondering Haurchefant’s words, so he continued. “That way, we can marry without guilt. You know that my father likes you, any widow of yours would always have a welcome at House Fortemps.”

Aymeric nodded, “And as the leader of the Temple Knights, I can ensure there’s always someone there to save your _damsel_.”

Haurchefant laughed, and held out his hand. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Aymeric said, and clasped it.

Unbeknownst to both of them, to the south, the famed Warrior of Light, (Y/N) (L/N), arrived at the Observatorium in Coerthas, shaking snow out of her hair.


	2. Heretical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant meets (Y/N), and enlists her help to exonerate his friend, Francel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mostly summarizes the quest chain where you meet Haurchefant, and sets up the next chapter. I hope you like!

**A Few Days Later**

Haurchefant Greystone sat at his desk in Camp Dragonhead, looking over the ledgers before approving them. Whilst he had Corentiaux to handle them for the most part, he was responsible for everything at the outpost, and it would be remiss if he just signed off on whatever he was handed.

The great doors at the opposite end of the hall opened, and he folded the ledger shut. _Most likely some ill-tempered lordling, displeased that we don’t have a dozen servants to cater to his every whim._ This had not been what he dreamt of, when he yearned to be a knight.

Still, Haurchefant rubbed a hand across his face, and put on his welcoming smile, then looked up to face -

The woman who entered was stunning. Absolutely, unquestionably beautiful. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, even the tiny wrinkle in her brow, slightly furrowed in concern. She clutched her satchel to herself a little tighter, and approached. While she seemed nervous, the ease with which she walked, amongst the others and the way her eyes darted about, not assessing incoming threats, but observing, cataloguing, made her all the more intriguing.

“Ah, the unmistakable swagger of a well-traveled adventurer,” he teased. “If you are come to pay your respects, be at ease, friend. I am not one to stand on formality. Truth be told, I would gladly welcome many and more brave souls like yourself. But enough chatter - pray, tell me your name, and why you have come.” 

This last made her smile, and she relaxed, placing a hand on her hip. “I’m (Y/N),” she said, and he could taste her name in his mouth, suddenly. Feel the shape it would take, flowing off his tongue and past his lips. It took him a moment to realize she was still speaking - and another to understand what she had said - but the horror of her words, that the inquisition was about to bring charges of heresy against young Francel, _did_ sink in. Despite the way his eyes would linger on her neck as she spoke, afraid to go lower. 

She handed him a letter, from Francel himself, that detailed much the same, and that this woman had been of great assistance, giving him due warning of the coming storm.

Haurchefant shook his head, brushing away the carnal thoughts that erupted, unbidden. “If there is any justice in this world, these charges will receive no serious consideration.” He pursed his lips. “It is beyond inconceivable…” Another glance down at Francel’s letter. “Ah, yes. The letter made mention of a pressing matter for which you required assistance. What might that be?”

_She needs my help,_ he thought, and then a memory from earlier that week seized him.

>   
“I have always wanted to save someone. You know how it is, be that shining hero, rescue the damsel in distress, win her heart and have her flutter her eyelashes at you and call you her hero.”  


  
He clung to the shreds of his moral rectitude, then, trying desperately not to think about anything. Haurchefant would have to do _something_ about this, later, in the privacy of his chambers. They’d barely exchanged fifty words and already she was tugging at the seams of his courtesy.

“I am in search of an airship, the _Enterprise_. According to those who were there that night, just before the tragedy of Carteneau, it vanished over the mountains into Coerthas.” She said.

Haurchefant grumbled internally. Of course, what she needed wouldn’t be easy. Why couldn’t she have asked him to slay some brigands along the road to her home, or perhaps defend her from some lecherous lord who intended to take her against her will? _Aymeric would mock me incessantly if he could see me now._ The thought brought a small smile to his lips.

“So this _Enterprise_ you speak of was last seen above Coerthas before the Calamity five years ago. I fear it may prove difficult to find any eyewitnesses to these events, for while Ishgard did not participate in the Battle of Carteneau, we were embroiled in our own internal conflicts at the time.” He reached down and touched the papers on the desk, then looked up at her, and smiled. “Nevertheless, I will make inquiries on your behalf and share with you my findings in the future.” He considered the suggestion smooth. It gave him an excuse for them to speak again. “In the meantime, please enjoy the hospitality of Camp Dragonhead. I will see that you are afforded every courtesy as a guest of House Fortemps.” 

(Y/N) bowed, and thanked him, turning to go. 

“W-wait,” Haurchefant said, “(Y/N).” Her name tasted just as warm as he’d imagined, and he was so thankful for the weight of his chainmail, hiding the evidence of his desperation. She looked back over her shoulder, then turned toward him again. “It may take some time,” he said, “before I receive any information regarding your missing airship. While you wait, mayhap you might…” He let his eyes sweep her quickly. Something, anything, to make sure she stayed at Camp Dragonhead, so he could get to know her - then he noticed the bow at her back. He’d been so busy staring at her. “... indulge me in a small favor?”

Her smile lit up the room again, so he continued. “It is obvious to me that you know much and more of the ways of war. I ask that you share that knowledge with our knights, so that they might be better prepared when the next Dravanian Horde strikes.” She seemed mildly surprised, but nodded. “One of my veteran knights is presently conducting a training session just beyond our western gate. Pray, seek him out and introduce yourself. He will explain how you can help.”

“All right, Haurchefant,” (Y/N) said, and hearing his own name was even worse for his composure. “I’ll see you soon.” She gave him a smile and a small wave, and headed out the door. 

As soon as it closed behind her, he put a hand to his face. “I’ll be in my chambers.”

Corentiaux laughed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Haurchefant made his way up to the western wall. He watched her fight, the bow slipping into her hands reflexively - each arrow sailing towards its target with the surety of a pigeon coming home to roost. She was marvelous. _Three_ Knights of House Fortemps, even unblooded, were no laughing matter, but they simply could not catch her. Whenever they closed, she moved, her feet dancing through the snow like an elemental, in her element.

_Absolutely stunning,_ he thought to himself, and sighed a little, leaning on his hand. As the last knight fell, he realized she was heading back inside - to speak with him. He hopped down the steps three at a time, over the parapet into the courtyard, and elbowed his way into the hall, vaulting over his desk and landing in his armchair. After a moment, he dusted the snow off his chainmail, and leaned on his desk. If she had the same effect on him now that she’d had earlier, he desperately wanted it to hide behind.

As (Y/N) approached again, he appraised her. _Still beautiful. Still…_ there was some word he wanted, that he reached for, but it eluded him. All he knew was that he could not keep his eyes off of her. “I observed everything from the western wall,” he admitted, before she could even open her mouth. “Splendid performance, (Y/N)!”

She raised an eyebrow, and Haurchefant blushed. “Mayhap you have discerned this during your short time here, but House Fortemps regards outsiders differently than the other High Houses. We have no objections to employing adventurers and sellswords, for example, whereas the others have, for all intents and purposes, forbidden the practice.” He assessed her carefully as she spoke her next words. “They do so at their peril. To disregard a man’s talents solely because of the circumstances of his birth is shortsighted and foolish.” She merely smiled at him, no outward reaction of disagreement. 

_She is Eorzean,_ Haurchefant thought to himself. _I have heard they are not so… stringent, in those lands._ For just a moment, he let himself hope. _Maybe she would not be adverse to a bastard by her side._

“As you must have realized by now, the High Houses of Ishgard - House Fortemps included - are either unable or unwilling to offer you formal assistance in your search.” He said quietly. “However, that does not mean that there are not influential individuals within each house who are sympathetic to your cause...”

* * *

Haurchefant pressed the linkpearl into his ear. “Damn it all, Aymeric, I need this.” It had been three days since (Y/N) had appeared in Camp Dragonhead, and he had been unable to do anything to help her. No one would talk about anything except the accusations against Francel. Except one witness, of course, but they were too afraid of ‘associating with heretics’ to be of use.

He could hear his best friend sigh through the connection. “You know my hands are tied when it comes to helping outsiders. Until this damsel of yours does something to make herself stand out, I must treat her as any other attempting to gain assistance from the Holy See.”

“But this is my chance!” Haurchefant began to pace. “Someone must know _something_. If I can find out, I can take her to the airship, then I can… I can…”

“Can what, Haurchefant? Declare your undying love and propose on the spot to a woman you’ve known the better part of a day? Do you think she’ll just swoon into your arms then, marry you within the hour, and then everything will just work itself out?” Aymeric’s voice was kind, but pragmatic. “Besides, are _you_ really the hero here if I do all the work? If you want her affection, earn it. Or do what I do.”

Blushing hard, Haurchefant banished that knowledge to the back of his mind. Estinien had made the same offer to both of them - occasional sex, no strings attached. All three of them were married to their work, and had no time for romance as it was. Haurchefant was not attracted to men, and thus had not accepted. Aymeric, who had always been ambivalent as to what lie between his partner’s legs, had. It bothered Haurchefant, a little, to know that they could both so easily detach affection from sex. It was not an ability he had been gifted with.

“I’d rather not,” he grumbled. “I just… if you do happen across anything, let me know?”

“I will,” Aymeric replied. “And if the chance presents itself, I would like to meet her, if for no other reason that a woman who has you acting like a damn fool on first meeting must be something special.”

“She is.” Haurchefant replied. “Oh, Halone, Aymeric, she is.”

The connection dropped, and he tucked the pearl away, and continued to pace. Francel and a handful of knights had been seen sneaking off to Steel Vigil, and unable to leave his post, he’d sent her after the boy. He hated being unable to go after him himself.

_What kind of hero am I?_ Haurchefant asked himself bitterly. _Trapped behind a desk, unable to do one simple task._ These last three days had been torturous. Whenever she came back, she’d always come into the hall and greet him, then go about her tasks - doting on her chocobo, caring for her armor and weapons, chatting with other soldiers. Each evening he’d tried to work up the courage to ask her to join him for dinner, but she always seemed busy. Then he’d look up, and see her staring at him, her cheeks pink, and she’d look away. Was it the cold, or a blush? (Y/N) was maddening, and no amount of masturbation seemed to help.

The doors creaked, and he looked up. There she was again, heading toward his desk. Her skin was a little pale, and the shadows under her eyes had grown a little dark. “You look exhausted,” Haurchefant blurted out, as she approached.

(Y/N) laughed. “I don’t get much sleep these days.”

“Why not?” He frowned. “Is aught amiss?”

She shrugged. “I keep waking up, thinking I heard someone call my name. But I only hear them in the room you provided me. If I leave, it’s quiet again.”

Haurchefant’s frown deepened. “I’ll have someone look into it.” He glanced at Corentiaux. “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

The younger knight coughed into his hand, and blushed deeply. “Lord Haurchefant. We’ve put her in the room right below yours.”

Behind (Y/N), Yaelle cackled, and Haurchefant’s face suddenly burned with shame. “R-Right. Well. What did you find at Steel Vigil?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

(Y/N) told him of stumbling upon Francel and his knights, and their ill-fated attempt to prove their devotion by slaying Dravanians in the Vigil. A strange light had come into her eyes, and he felt exposed under her gaze. Like a rabbit, sensing the hunter.

“Aah.” Haurchefant said, shaking his head. “I see. A reckless plan, but at least it did not cost him and his knights their lives.” Why were his cheeks still burning? Why was (Y/N) smiling? Well, at least he had one scrap to present her, however meager.

“I have news for you as well. A witness to the final flight of the _Enterprise_ has been found. Alas, there is a... complication.” 

“Go on,” (Y/N) said.

Haurchefant sighed. “It has become common knowledge that you paid a visit to Lord Francel at Skyfire Locks not long ago. Upon learning of this, the witness became understandably reticent to make your acquaintance, for fear of being seen in the company of a woman who might later be declared a heretic.” He leaned on his hand, glumly. “A not unreasonable fear, given the zeal with which inquisitor Guillaime has conducted his investigations. In any case, if we wish to obtain his testimony, we must first clear Lord Francel’s name - and, by association, yours.”

Her smirk only grew as he spoke, explaining that the only evidence was the draconian rosary that she had found, according to the reports, and that someone must have slipped it into Francel’s things. When he’d finished, she was grinning wickedly, and he realized that her eyes were not on him, but the wall behind him. He looked over his shoulder, but only saw Corentiaux, gazing _too_ innocently at the ceiling.

“I will help you with Francel,” (Y/N) replied, drawing little circles with her finger on his desk. “If you can work up the nerve to ask me to dinner.”

Haurchefant shot Corentiaux a murderous look, and Yaelle cackled again. (Y/N) turned to leave, but he sighed, wearily. “My lady.”

She glanced back, one eyebrow raised in question.

“After we have cleared Francel’s name, will you join me for dinner?”

(Y/N) nodded once, and headed out the door.

“You’re an arse,” he said to the younger knight.

Corentiaux grinned. “You can thank me later.”

* * *

Haurchefant kicked the snow in irritation. She’d slain the wyvern, and the heretical members of the Temple Knights, and he had convinced Inquisitor Guillaime to drop the charges against Francel. Now he walked back to Camp Dragonhead in the snow, his mind dizzy. How, in Halone’s name, would he ever be able to rescue (Y/N) when she was so damned _good_? Short of pure, dumb luck, he couldn’t see a way. How was he supposed to win her heart without being a valiant knight, come to save her from danger? 

(Y/N) walked beside him, quietly, and he could feel her eyes on him. Then he remembered. _Halone, will this torture never end?_ But, he was Haurchefant Greystone, a Knight of House Fortemps. He stopped, just inside the gate to Camp Dragonhead.

“My Lady,” he said, formally, she stopped as well. “I know that you have much and more to get to, but would you consent to dine with me tonight?” 

To his surprise, (Y/N) stepped closer to him, and stood up on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his cheek. Her breath was near burning, when compared to the cold air around them, and he felt the heat of it flood him from head to toe. She settled back on her heels and giggled. “Finally. I’d love to.” She turned and continued into the fortress. “Come to my room in an hour?” She waved a hand over her shoulder lazily as she walked. “I’ll be waiting, Haurchefant.”

“Oh, Halone,” he rubbed a hand over his face.

Hourlinet patted his shoulder. “You should hurry, unless you plan to wine and dine the woman in your armor.”

Haurchefant said a few words that were not worthy of a knight of House Fortemps, and headed into the fortress as well.


	3. Cider [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant is anxious, and (Y/N) understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is only sort of explicit, but I thought better to warn you, I hope you enjoy it.

The wind howled down upon Coerthas, but Haurchefant paid it no mind. He and (Y/N) sat together in the small cell that served as his bedroom and office, eating roast duck and drinking hot spiced cider.

He had been anxious, going to retrieve her from her rooms, his hair still wet from a quick bath, out of his mail for once, but she had laughed and teased him like they were old friends. Thus at ease, the conversation had flowed easily from there, from her adventures throughout Eorzea to his childhood in Ishgard. She seemed fascinated by the city, having never been, and he found himself insisting that he would have to bring her there as his guest at some point. She smiled, then he smiled, and Haurchefant felt his heart stutter in his chest.

(Y/N) took another sip of her cider. “So, Haurchefant, how much longer are you going to wait before you kiss me?”

The question took him off guard, causing him to fumble his own mug of cider and spill it all over himself. “Er… I … that is… my lady…” 

She laughed, grabbing her napkin and wiping cider from his doublet. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Kneeling in front of him, she started wiping the cider from the floor as well. “I must have misread you.”

“No,” Haurchefant said, and reached down, putting a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “You didn’t misread, but I do not know what to do with my attraction to you.”

She looked up, then, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers tentatively. This strange adventurer did not hesitate, and pressed closer, sealing their mouths together with confidence he only wished he possessed right now. 

After a moment, (Y/N) pulled away, and tilted her head. “That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

Haurchefant felt his face flush crimson instantaneously. “Y-You could tell.”

“I’m sorry, I keep making a mess of things,” she said, “literally and figuratively. I could only tell because you seemed so hesitant, even though you were the one that started it. I couldn’t think of another reason. I didn’t realize you were so…”

“... Inexperienced.” He finished, looking away and running a hand through his hair. “Forgive me. I know it’s unusual at my age, especially for a knight, given the traditions.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She stood, setting the Napkin on the table. “I should not have been as aggressive as I was.”

“Aggressive,” Haurchefant laughed. “My lady, you assumed, with ample reason, that I was familiar with the fairer sex, and acted accordingly. If anything, I should have invited you to dine with me three days ago, when you first walked into my hall. That would have been the proper thing to do in this situation.” He shook his head. “You have done nothing to require an apology. My inexperience is not your burden to bear.”

She regarded him a moment, her eyes appraising. “Can I ask why? You’re quite attractive, and as far as I can tell, you are attracted to women. Why haven’t you engaged with someone before now?”

He scratched the back of his head. “It’s a rather personal story. A little complicated and melancholy, I’m afraid. Not polite dinner conversation, and I’d like to think I’ve botched things enough with you already.”

(Y/N) giggled behind her hand. “I don’t consider this botched, yet.”

Haurchefant took a step back, shocked. “Y-you don’t?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. You’re attracted to me, I’m attracted to you, I don’t mind helping you get a bit of experience.” Her wink was playful and entirely indecent. “If you want that, I mean. I don’t want to rush you.”

“I do, I…” He glanced down and saw the cider settling into his clothes. “I should get changed.”

“Do you want me to go?” Her voice was kind. 

“No. yes. No, I…” He stood, and paced anxiously. “All right, so.” Was he going to tell her this? This woman he’d known three _days_? He suddenly realized he’d have to. If they were going to be anything more than casual acquaintances, she needed to know that he was waiting until marriage to lie with a woman. It would be cruel and unfair to lead her on, otherwise. He sighed. “I’m a bastard.” Haurchefant looked at her, waiting for the comments.

“And?” She did not bat an eyelash at his confession.

“And, I don’t know about the rest of Eorzea, but in Ishgard, that is a problem.” He tugged at his doublet. “It left me ostracized, both from my family and Ishgardian society at large, until I was knighted. Even then, there are certain people for whom it’s still a _problem._” He inhaled slowly, then exhaled. “So I decided, a long while back, that I would not risk putting anyone else in the same position. I am not interested in having intercourse with a woman I am not wedded to, no matter how much I may want you - her - them.” He buried his face in his hands. “Oh, Halone…”

(Y/N)’s touch on his arm was soft. “You know there are… things we could do that _don’t_ risk that.” Haurchefant stared at her hand, still in shock she wasn’t mocking him. “And I’m happy to take it slow, if that’s what you need.” She laughed. “I’m an adventurer on any account. Anything we had would have to be unusual and non-traditional already.”

“I don’t know how to begin,” he confessed, sliding his hand through his hair. “And I don’t know how far I’d be able to go right now.”

She smiled up at him. “Well, then I can take the lead, and we’ll see what happens. If you want to slow down, or stop, let me know. If that works for you?”

By way of answer, Haurchefant leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers a little more firmly than he had before. (Y/N) pushed herself up on her tip-toes, responding ardently, and brushed her tongue against his lips. He gasped, his mouth opening reflexively, and felt the heat of her shiver down his spine and pool at the small of his back. Instinct took over, and he put his arms around her, pulling her close. She tasted like the cider, and it reminded him his clothing was growing sticky by the moment. When they broke away, he blushed. “My doublet…”

“I’ll get it,” she said, and her fingers tugged at the clasps. Haurchefant watched her in fascination, biting his lip as his torso was revealed before her. (Y/N) glanced up, and their eyes met, and she did not break eye contact with him as she lowered her head to his abdomen. She licked the quickly-drying drink from his skin, her tongue sliding over the muscles of his torso, over his collarbone, and along his neck. 

Haurchefant leaned his head back against the stone wall and groaned. “(Y/N),” he gasped, “What are you…?” Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she leaned up, catching his earlobe in teeth. “Halone, that… that…” 

“You’re too tall,” she teased, and pulled him after her towards the small cot hidden discreetly behind a wooden screen. 

The realization that this was happening, that she knew what he was, that they couldn’t consummate their relationship, and she was _still_ interested hit him like a cold shock to his system. Were they going to do this? Was he going to do this, to enter into an intimate, if not penetrative relationship with her? The fact that his feet were still moving, following after her, and that his skin still burned where she had licked him, and the only thing he wanted right now was to touch her answered that. 

(Y/N) pulled him down onto the cot beside her, squeezing herself between him and the stone wall. He kissed her again, as that seemed to be the easiest, most familiar thing. She responded eagerly, and he let himself touch her, pulling her against his chest, absolutely _delighted_ to feel her hands on his bare skin. “I want to touch you,” he whispered into her mouth. “But I don’t know how you would like to be touched.”

She smiled, and tugged her shirt off, revealing a tantalizing expanse of soft skin, and a durable corset of cotton drill. “Neck and shoulders first,” (Y/N) instructed, her voice soft. “Once you're comfortable with that, we can keep going.”

Nodding nervously, he placed his hand on her shoulder, then dragged his fingers along her skin, sliding up the side of her neck and into her hair. Her eyes fluttered shut, and (Y/N) opened her mouth slightly. Haurchefant leaned down to kiss her again, but wondered, idly, if she would not appreciate boldness. Tugging his hand back out of her hair, he caught her chin with his thumb and pressed it up, exposing the long graceful curve of her neck. Hesitantly, watching for her reaction, Haurchefant pressed his lips to that gentle slope, and was rewarded with a gasp, and the soft scratch of her nails on his skin. 

_Restraint,_ he thought to himself, _is a thing for lesser men._ And that was the last coherent thought he had for some time. A lifetime of wanting and need - not just for physical intimacy, but love and acceptance as well - took control of him as he let himself descend into the desires. He nibbled her collarbone and pawed at her corset, trying to figure out which tie to pull, only for (Y/N)’s laugh to vibrate through his lips and tickle his ear.

“Like this,” she whispered, and brought his hands around to the front, showing him how to unclasp the busk with a few quick motions.The sight of her breasts, unrestrained, shook him out of his hungry daze for a moment, but only long enough for him to shakily take one in his hand, cupping it as though it were made of glass. But (Y/N) responded, arching her back and pressing against him, and he was pulled back under the surface, to enjoy whatever happened.

Haurchefant’s cock was straining to be freed, and he could have wept with delight when she tugged at the laces of his trousers, trading the rough fabric for her soft, exploring hands. “Oh, Halone,” he growled, and kissed her again, only to find the combination - her willingness, her touch, and her acceptance - drove him over the edge and he spent himself on her hand.

“O-Oh,” He was instantly red. “Halone, oh I’m sorry. I-”

(Y/N) shook her head. “It’s all right, Haurchefant. It’s very common with inexperienced men.” Her smile was warm, and she kissed his cheek. “I expected it.”

“Right,” he said, but still blushed. “I should take care of you. I don’t yet know what I’m doing, but I’m eager to -”

“Not tonight, handsome,” she said, grinning at him. “I’m afraid women are a bit more difficult to get off than men, generally. We’ll have to find some time where we have more than a few hours to ourselves before I can teach you that.” She winked. “But… I will come back, and we can do this again, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” the word was out of his mouth before he’d even finished comprehending what (Y/N) had said. “When are you leaving?”

“In the morning. There’s still a primal to slay.” She sighed tediously. “I should probably head back to my room.”

“No,” Haurchefant shook his head. “I want… I’d like it if you stayed, if that’s all right.”

(Y/N) raised one eyebrow. "You know what everyone will say."

He chuckled. “Let them. Maybe one day it will be true.” Swallowing nervously, he continued, “I would like to see where this goes. I’d like to have something real with you, if I can.”

“I think I’d like that,” (Y/N)’s smile was warm and inviting, and when he kissed her, he felt as worthy as any trueborn son of any lord.


	4. Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** thoughts of suicide.
> 
> Aymeric meets the woman Haurchefant has been raving about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first Aymeric perspective chapter! I hope you guys like it!

**Aymeric**

The Lord Commander of the Temple Knights pressed the linkpearl into his ear, and waited a few moments.

“Aymeric?” Haurchefant’s voice whispered in his ear, as though he stood beside him.

“Hello, Haurchefant. I’m terribly sorry to disturb you. I know how _busy_ things can be at Camp Dragonhead.” He chuckled, and was gratified to hear his dear friend laugh as well.

“Yes. It is terribly busy watching snow fall day in and day out. I scarcely have time to worry about the Dravanians.” Haurchefant’s tone was light, and Aymeric was glad for it. Ever since he had entered into… well… whatever it was he had with the Warrior of Light, he had changed, and certainly for the better.

Aymeric himself had taken an interest in the woman, first, purely out of concern for his closest friend, but that only redoubled when he heard of her exploits. Slaying primals, driving off the Garlean Empire, and yet, somehow, still having time to be intimate with the baseborn son of an Ishgardian Count. She was intriguing, and, he hoped, one day a permanent fixture in Haurchefant’s life.

“I’m sorry to put more on your plate, my friend, but a matter has come to my attention, and I actually thought your close friend, the Warrior of Light, might be able to assist with it.” Aymeric noticed Lucia trying to get his attention, and glanced at the papers in her hand. He gave a silent nod, and went back to his conversation. “I was hoping you could arrange a meeting so that -”

“_Yes._” Haurchefant’s vehement response brought a smirk to his face.

“ - so that I could discuss it with her. I would also like to be formally introduced to her as your friend, if that’s not too much - “

“_Yes._” The other man repeated, and Aymeric laughed.

“All right. Let me know when you’ve made the arrangements, and I’ll arrive at the scheduled hour.” He glanced down at his list for the day, and crossed out the words ‘Speak with Haurchefant’.

* * *

Aymeric’s life had always been governed by a series of rules: etiquette, combat, dancing, cooking. All of them could be boiled down to rigorous rubrics. So long as he remained within those confines, things would be all right. And he applied them to this meeting as well - armor and robes, just so; his hair, just so. 

Haurchefant had told him he’d be meeting two members of the renowned Scions of the Seventh Dawn. He’d received importuning letters from the Warrior of Light’s companion, a teenage boy named Alphinaud Leveilleur. He seemed smug and a little condescending, as if he was the only person with the sense the gods gave an ilmworm. Aymeric could only hope the boy had some minder to put him to bed before the adults shared dinner.

As soon as he found himself beside the Camp Dragonhead Aetheryte, Haurchefant’s arms were around him in a friendly hug. “Thank you, _so much_ for giving me an excuse to see her again.”

He laughed. “Yes, yes, but I do actually have business with her, Haurchefant, for all your lovesick prattling.”

They parted, and Haurchefant lead him to the keep, Lucia in their wake. “Please, take a moment and have something warm to drink. We’ve ale, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, whatever strikes your fancy. When you’re ready, come over to the intercessory. (Y/N)’s waiting for me there.” He bowed again, quickly, and headed off, obviously eager to be with his lover.

“Well,” Lucia said after he’d left, a cup of black coffee clutched in her hands. “She’s certainly wrapped him around her little finger.”

“Couldn’t happen to a better man,” he agreed, and poured himself a glass of mulled wine.

* * *

As Aymeric entered the Intercessory, the first person he noticed was an obnoxious Elezen boy, with pale hair, and clothes _entirely_ unsuited to the weather. “Commander Leveilleur,” he said, the height of courtesy even with the boy’s pretentious assumed title. “It is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, just a little viciousness. “I am Aymeric, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights.”

“Alphinaud Leveilleur,” the boy replied, without title, “at your service.” He smiled smugly. “Your reputation precedes you, Sir Aymeric. I think we will find that we have much in common.”

_Hardly,_ Aymeric thought. The boy was full of the feigned immortality of youth, and seemed to have never suffered a consequence for his bravado. However, etiquette had its demands, and he gave a soft nod as he turned his gaze to the boy’s companion.

Aymeric stilled as his eyes fell upon the Warrior of Light. He’d heard Haurchefant rave about her, how she took his breath away, but had assumed it the idle prattling of his inexperience. But no, he had done his dear friend a disservice to believe so. (Y/N) was stunning, and his heart lurched at the nervous anxiety in her eyes, suddenly overcome with the urge to do whatever was necessary to see just one bright smile on her face. 

_Say something, Aymeric,_ he chided himself, _you have to say something!_ He swallowed, and forced out a few words. “Speaking of reputations, yours towers over us all. Does it not?” He smiled, but he could feel the seduction creeping into it, the way he looked at women when he wanted something. _No, Not her. Not her._ He turned to Lucia instead, who was immune to his charms.

“It does indeed, Lord Commander,” his companion said, and he could thank Halone for her saving him, acting as though the question had been directed at her.

Haurchefant seemed not to have noticed Aymeric’s bumbling idiocy, and nodded in agreement at the comment. _Gods, he is smitten with her, and I cannot blame him._ He closed his eyes, taking a moment to center himself. _You can do this, Aymeric. You must do this._

“I am not too proud to admit that I have followed your activities with an interest bordering on fascination,” he said, smiling again, though it was a half-lie. It had been interest before he’d met her. Now, he knew, without hesitation, it was _obsession_. “Full glad was I to learn that you would be joining us.” He glanced to Haurchefant. “Now then, shall we begin?”

* * *

Things were beginning to look up. Aymeric had gotten a handle on himself, and he could carry on a conversation. Though it was obvious the boy was disappointed that there would be no sudden grand shift in an Ishgardian policy that had been in place since long before he was _born_, he had at least come to an agreement regarding the supplies to Mor Dhona and their defense of the caravans.

(Y/N), however, was definitely going to be a problem. Though Haurchefant seemed oblivious to his feelings, Aymeric saw the way she watched him, and was sure she had some inkling of the pounding in his chest, the shaking of his hands, and the way his mouth had gone dry. Love at first sight was supposed to be something for fairy tales and badly-written plays, not something that happened to _him_.

He almost prostrated himself in thanks to Halone when the door burst open, and one of the House Fortemps guards rushed in.

“What is the meaning of this?” Haurchefant demanded.

“The caravan, my lord! It’s been attacked!” The knight replied, breathlessly. “It was _Iceheart_, my lord!”

“What!?” Haurchefant stood. “By the Fury! All our precautions were for naught!?”

While the whole room was focused on the two knights of House Fortemps, Aymeric let his eyes slide to the side, to take another look at the woman who left him so conflicted. She was focused wholly on Haurchefant, her hands gripping the table, and Aymeric breathed a sigh of quiet relief. Maybe if he could convince himself she didn’t know, he could… he could…

He watched in dismay as her eyes took the same opportunity, and slid to the side, meeting his.

* * *

Aymeric rubbed his hands over his face in the small cell Haurchefant had set aside for his use, splashing near-freezing water over his skin. He needed to banish thoughts of her from his head, he needed to - 

The door burst open again, and he turned to find Haurchefant, grinning with excitement. “What are you _doing_ in here? There’s adventure afoot and you’re washing your face and trembling like a schoolboy.”

“Forgive me,” he said, willing his hands to still. “I feel a bit… unwell.”

“Oh,” the smile vanished from his friend’s face instantaneously. “Would you like me to summon a physician, we can -”

“No, that will be alright. I think I just… need to get my mind off things. These… attacks, all of it. Politics in the city are irritating as well.” Aymeric let the little white lie out, choosing to save his friend the consternation of the truth. Still, he felt guilty at the concern evident in Haurchefant’s eyes. 

“Why don’t I get some ale and you and I can have a drink, sit by the fire, and talk about nothing?” Greystone said, and patted his shoulder. “I know I can’t completely take you from your responsibilities, but we have some time, and it’s better than being maudlin.” Haurchefant’s smile was back. “Besides, I want to hear what you thought about her.” He was already out of the room, without waiting for a response.

Aymeric looked into the mirror along one wall and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The ale, at least, helped with the spinning in Aymeric’s head. He could drink, stare at the fire, and make appropriate nods and sounds of approval as Haurchefant gushed about (Y/N). But to be completely honest, it was heartening. He wanted to know more about her beyond the official communiques.

“What flowers does she like?” he asked, abruptly, while Haurchefant was waxing poetic about her sense of humor.

“Flowers?” Haurchefant shrugged. “I haven’t asked.”

“Yes, but what did she think of the ones you gave her?” He drummed his fingers on the side of his stein.

“Oh,” Greystone laughed. “I haven’t given her flowers.”

Aymeric eyed the stein, considering using it to bash Haurchefant’s head in. “You lie with her, you profess to love her, and you’ve never even given her flowers? What _have_ you done, to show your devotion?”

The other man paused, looking into the fire, then said nervously, “Asked her to come visit again?”

Aymeric stood. “Forgive me for this, but I am acting on behalf of whatever family she has.” Haurchefant tilted his head, quizzically, only for Aymeric’s fist to catch him in the jaw and wrench it back aside. After taking a moment to straighten his robes, Aymeric loomed over Haurchefant, his face stoney with disapproval. “If you are serious about her, then you need to act like it. Not _just_ for your honor, but for hers. You play at love like an idiot child, but you are a man grown, Haurchefant. And it falls to the other men around you to take you to account for your actions.” He returned to his seat and took up his stein again, brooding into it.

Haurchefant cursed under his breath and popped his neck. “Alright, I will admit, I deserved that.” He sighed. “I just… I never know for sure when I will see her next…” 

“Then get a gift that keeps. Chocolates will last a few _months_ if kept cold. Not like that’s difficult in this weather.” He eyed his companion. “Love letters, too, are acceptable, and given how often you are separated might be a better idea still. Not to mention jewels. Those will outlast the both of you.”

Haurchefant scowled. “My father likes to buy women with jewels.”

“Yet,” Aymeric sighed, “They are the accepted way to dower a woman when one does not have property to give her.”

“D-dower?” Haurchefant squeaked.

He gave Greystone a murderous look, and set down his stein again. “What, exactly, are you intentions, then?”

Haurchefant stared at his own stein. “I… I hadn’t really considered marriage. I mean, I’ve fantasized about it, but she’s the Warrior of Light. She’s done so many things, so much. And what do I have? Command of a frozen hellhole of an outpost, and that’s the most a bastard can expect.”

“You and I both know if you were to marry, your father would grant you a rural estate. He cares for you, and would not see his descendants beg for charity from distant cousins.” Aymeric sighed. He could see it all play out in his mind. 

After this little conversation, Haurchefant would buy her chocolates, then jewels. Then he would go to Count de Fortemps and beg permission to marry, which would be granted, because that is the one benefit to being baseborn - marrying for love. A few strings would be pulled, and Haurchefant would be made a minor lord with a tiny keep somewhere in Coerthas. And (Y/N) would marry him, because of course she would, and they would have lots of sex and children and Aymeric would just sit by and watch and grow to detest them both for torturing him, though he’d do nothing to stop it. Halone, he’d probably move to help them get established. 

His only hope was for Haurchefant to die young, but he cursed himself as soon as the thought flickered in his mind. No. He would not wish death on his friend. Then a different image flashed before his mind, a darker image. (Y/N)’s face, pallid and still, in bloody childbed with Haurchefant’s get. What would he even do?

The answer came quickly enough to him, the image of him walking out the front gates of Borel Manor upon receiving the news, stepping up onto the balustrade, and letting his body plummet to the stones of Foundation, putting a final end to this pathetic tragedy that had become his life. He almost wanted to laugh. (Y/N) had upended three decades of stability in less than three _hours_.

“Are you all right?” 

Haurchefant’s words cut through his maudlin imaginings. “Oh, yes. Forgive me.”

“You look a little pale,” the man said dubiously.

He waved him off. “As you were saying?”

Aymeric pursed his lips while Haurchefant continued on. “I’m going to marry her. I have to. I don’t want… that is, I can’t -” 

The Lord Commander of the Temple Knights closed his eyes, and said the words that weighed upon his own heart. “You can’t imagine living in a world without her in it.”


	5. Slag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant loses his temper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter Friends, I hope you like, let me know!!

**Haurchefant**

“(Y/N)’s going to _what_?” Haurchefant was on his feet in an instant. “Absolutely not.” His heart was pounding in his chest at Alphinaud’s words. She planned to use some type of ‘auracite’ and attempt a risky teleportation to an Aetheryte she’d never seen, all in pursuit of Iceheart.

“Those heretics are an Ishgardian problem. I won’t have her risk her life…” He was strapping on his sword. Corentiaux reached out to stop him, but Haurchefant sidestepped, moving past him towards the doors. “I won’t let her risk her life alone.”

“You can’t -” Yaelle began, but he pushed her aside. “Lord Haurchefant, you are tasked with the care and keeping of Camp Dragonhead. You can’t just go gallivanting off to die to a heretic.” 

He ignored her words, but he saw her exchange a glance with Corentiaux as he pushed his way out to the courtyard. “Ready a Chocobo,” he ordered, and servants rushed to obey him.

“Haurchefant!” Yaelle’s voice called behind him - he heard her steps on the snow-covered stones. “Coren, we have to stop him.” 

Haurchefant tensed. He knew he was going against orders to gallivant off on a mission. He knew that since she was an outsider, he was not permitted to risk one Ishgardian life in her defense - not even his own. _What kind of knight am I, if I will not stand to aid those in need?_ Damn the consequences, he was going to save her.

Corentiaux’s voice echoed through the courtyard. “Just going to throw it all away because your exotic _slag_ decided to get herself in a little peril?”

The entire courtyard came to a standstill. While Haurchefant’s relationship was something of an open secret, and met with great disapproval by the more conservative Ishgardians, none had dared speak ill of her within his hearing. Now, Corentiaux had done the unspeakable, and not only insulted her, but implied she was nothing to him but a whore.

The Bastard of House Fortemps turned on his heel, slowly, and spotted Alphinaud on the steps from the keep. “Master Leveilleur,” Haurchefant said. “Do me a favor and ride to Whitebrim Front, and summon Lord Aymeric.”

The boy, sensing the tension in the air, ran across the courtyard and hopped on the back of the Chocobo that they had been preparing for Haurchefant. As he rode out the gates to the east, Haurchefant turned his gaze back to Corentiaux, and started striding toward him. When his mailed fist caught his second-in-command in the stomach - no amount of chainmail could dull the pain of a solid punch from a trained knight - all hell broke loose.

Haurchefant could hear Yaelle summoning the other knights to break up the fight, while servants scattered hither and yon, but his only concern was the man in front of him. He bore Corentiaux down to the stones punching him over and over, punctuation for the litany of swears pouring from his lips.

* * *

**Aymeric**

Sir Drillemont had been kind enough to set aside chambers for the Lord Commander’s use, and within them, Aymeric paced, staring at the floor. He couldn’t get (Y/N) (L/N) out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face - the subtle glances, the knowing smile - it was an exquisite kind of torture, being enraptured by the (R/N) woman.

Lucia stood nearby, her face impassive. She knew what had happened, how one glance at the Warrior of Light had sealed his fate, and thank Halone, she did not judge him for it. She was another dear friend, one he trusted as much as Haurchefant, but due to their work in close proximity, they kept each other’s secrets. He knew about her Garlean heritage, the petty dramas of her family that led to her seeking asylum in Ishgard, and her asexuality. She knew about his sudden ardor for the Warrior of Light, the lengths he had gone to in order to become the heir of House Borel despite being a bastard, and his arrangement with Estinien.

_Estinien,_ the thought of the man filled him with guilt. He knew the Azure Dragoon wanted more than the occasional dalliance, especially once he’d learned of the lax arrangement Haurchefant and the Warrior of Light had come to, but Aymeric wasn’t interested in giving it to him. He didn’t love Estinien, and while he enjoyed sexual dalliances with men, he _wanted_ the idea of a family with a woman.

Even before he’d met (Y/N) he’d wanted that - a wife and children. As if somehow by embracing his responsibilities as the heir of House Borel, marrying well and producing his own heirs could make up for the sin of his own birth. Now that the (R/N) had so brazenly stolen his heart - as if Haurchefant’s wasn’t enough - he could see that future all too clearly.

(Y/N) kneeling beside him, clad in white, as they married with the blessing of his father in the Vault.

(Y/N) standing by the mantle in the great receiving room in Borel Manor, the firelight catching her hair as she turned to smile at him, welcoming him home.

(Y/N) swaying by his bedroom window, their child swaddled in her arms, crooning quietly to the babe.

(Y/N)’s had clutched in his as they strode through the Pillars in the afternoon sun.

Lucia coming into his office, to let him know the _Countess_ was looking for him, and for once not meaning his grandmother.

It was a life he yearned for, but could never have - not without stealing all the dreams Haurchefant had as well.

“Sir Aymeric,” Lucia’s voice cut through is thoughts, and his head snapped up as his pacing stilled. “Sir Aymeric, Master Leveilleur would like to speak with you.”

“Of course,” Aymeric took a seat and a deep breath, calming himself. “Send him in.” For all that he disliked Alphinaud, at the moment, the child was a lifeline to _her_, so he would suffer the indignities.

Master Leveilleur entered, and bowed politely. “Sir Aymeric. Lord Haurchefant asked me to summon you.”

“Did he say why?”

“There has been some development regarding Iceheart, and an… _incident_ at Camp Dragonhead.” The boy glanced askance.

“What do you mean by an ‘incident’?” Aymeric was on his feet again, strapping his sword to his hip.

Alphinaud closed his eyes for a moment. “Lord Haurchefant wanted to go assist (Y/N), but the other knights tried to stop him. Sir Corentiaux called (Y/N) a… a…” the boy trailed off, his cheeks pink.

“Don’t falter now, Master Alphinaud. What did Corentiaux say?” 

Alphinaud nodded, and stood a little straighter. “Right, he said, ‘Just going to throw it all away because your exotic _slag_ decided to get herself in a little peril?’” The boy still winced, once the slur was passed his lips. “When I left, Haurchefant was beating the man bloody.”

Aymeric nodded once, but he noticed Lucia put a hand on the sword at her hip - a sign she saw and recognized the seething anger he barely had in check.. “Good. We’d best get back there before he murders someone.”

* * *

Aymeric de Borel strode into the small cells that served as a makeshift dungeon at Camp Dragonhead. “It took twelve of us to pull Lord Haurchefant off of him, my lord,” Yaelle said, following in his wake. “We tossed them both in here, once we’d tended to Coren’s wounds, to cool off for a bit.”

“I see.” He held out his hand for the key ring, which she gave him, gladly. “I’ll speak to both of them. Alone, if you would.” Yaelle nodded, and headed back to the courtyard, where two squires were scrubbing away as much blood as they could in the freezing weather.

Aymeric came to a stop outside one door, where his friend paced angrily. “Haurchefant.”

The man looked up. “There you are. Did you stop her?”

“Stop her?” Aymeric echoed, raising an eyebrow. “No one told me to stop anything. What has happened?”

“Alphinaud told me,” Haurchefant was at the bars, flexing his hands into and out of fists. “She’s going to attempt a blind jump through an Aetheryte to go after Iceheart.”

Aymeric turned, and began striding toward the door to the courtyard. He had to stop her.

“Wait, Aymeric, let me out!” Haurchefant rattled the bars. “You can’t go be the shining hero for my girlfriend without at least letting me tag along!” 

The words were enough to give Aymeric pause. “Is it really being a shining hero? Or is it being the villain who stops her from doing what she must?”

“You really are obvious, you know,” Haurchefant said.

“What do you mean?” Aymeric’s hand hovered above the latch.

“You’re the one who refused to help them because they’re outsiders, citing Ishgardian policy,” Haurchefant chuckled. “But now that she’s actually in danger, you’re going to risk yourself, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, for an outsider.”

“Not for an outsider - for my friend’s future wife.” Aymeric couldn’t look at him. He knew Haurchefant would be able to read every line of desire in his face.

“You know I long to save the fair damsel, Aymeric. And you want a warrior. It should be me striding out there to stop her, and you letting her fight to see what she does.” Haurchefant’s voice was light. “(Y/N) got to you, too, didn’t she?”

“Does it matter?” Aymeric asked. If Haurchefant knew, he knew. He turned back and walked to his friends cell, thankful Corentiaux was still unconscious from the beating. “I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“Why not?” Haurchefant’s question was genuine. “I don’t hold it against you.”

“Because I have been much luckier than you,” Aymeric replied, resting his hand on the bars. “I have been given everything because my grandfather wanted my father’s favor. I am heir to my house and Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. My illegitimacy is spoken of under breaths in dark corners. There will be too much political advantage in marrying me for it to prevent any but the most visceral of his Eminence’s political opponents to speak against it.” 

Aymeric leaned his head against the iron, and looked Haurchefant in the face. “I have been given _everything_ but her. You have been given _nothing_ but her. I will not take this one stroke of good fortune from you, not even as part of some competition. I’m conceding before the battle begins, as much as it kills me.”

Haurchefant’s face looked pained. “But you can give her so much more than I can.”

“I don’t think she wants what I have to give, Haurchefant.” He smiled weakly. “Besides, my position also makes marrying her an impossibility. She’s an outsider. My grandfather will never approve.”

Aymeric opened Haurchefant’s cell, and the two men clasped hands. “Thank you,” Haurchefant said, and headed for the door. 

Just before he opened it, Aymeric said, “If you don’t marry her, I will kill you. I can only let myself stand aside if it’s you.”

Haurchefant chuckled. “If I don’t marry her, I’ll kill myself, so don’t bother.” Then he was gone, leaving Aymeric alone with Corentiaux’s unconscious form in the next cell.

When the man woke, he found the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights standing over him, his face still as death. Aymeric reached into his clothing, to an inner pocket and pulled out a small, thin dagger, lifting it to the light, to be sure the injured man could see.

“A _slag_, was it?” His voice was as still as his face, and there was no mercy to be found in it. “You’re lucky Haurchefant got to you first. Otherwise, you’d be dead.”


	6. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) returns from facing the heretical Saint Shiva.

**Aymeric**

“Thank you for having faith in her,” Alphinaud said, bowing formally. “I’m glad at least one Ishgardian has the good sense not to go running after the Warrior of Light just because she’s doing something dangerous.”

Aymeric nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment, but said nothing. He would not lie directly to the boy’s face, nor would he admit that the only reason he had not chased after her at Haurchefant’s side was so that his friend could gain the glory - and the affection - such an act might win him. ‘Twas for naught regardless. He had already received word from Camp Dragonhead. (Y/N) had already jumped through by the time Greystone had arrived, and so he was as doomed as the rest of them, to wait for word.

With a loud creak, the doors at the bottom of the tower opened, and just like every time they had since he’d returned from Camp Dragonhead - angry, depressed, and bitter - his stomach clenched. Was it some ill-fated messenger, come to tell him of (Y/N)’s loss amidst the aetheric seas?

The steps, light and quick, echoed as they bore their owner upwards, until the (R/N) came into view, and his heart flooded with relief. 

“Lady (L/N),” he whispered, but his voice was too hoarse from disuse, so she approached Master Leveilleur. 

“There she is - and none the worse for wear!” Alphinaud gave Aymeric a friendly, encouraging grin, and the Lord Commander almost wondered if the boy was more perceptive than he seemed. “Was there ever any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed?” He laughed. “I think I speak for us all when I say that I should like nothing more than to hear the stirring tale of your victory - if you would be so kind.”

(Y/N) told them of jumping through the Aetheryte, using this Roegadyn, Moenbryda’s, technique, and her battle with Iceheart, who turned herself into a vessel for the heretical Saint Shiva.

Alphinaud’s face fell. “Then we were too late to prevent the summoning…”

“But not too late to prevent further loss of life.” Aymeric saw the flicker in (Y/N)’s eyes and realized one of the things that drove her - approval. She had done a grand and heroic thing, and yet the boy’s first concern was that she hadn’t done it well enough. In his mind, it was another strike against the boy, but he shook it aside. “An outcome worthy of celebration…” He turned to her, and bowed. “And one for which we have (Y/N) to thank.”

Alphinaud’s cheeks pinked slightly, suitably chastened. “Yes… You are right, of course, Sir Aymeric. We should be content with what we have accomplished.”

“I for one could not have wished for a better outcome,” Aymeric continued, giving the (R/N) woman a warm smile. “Shiva is no longer a threat, and the heretics have been routed.” He felt it again, that seductive smile, pulling at the edge of his lips. It had been too easy, as he grew, to use his charm and good looks to get his way. Now he feared he did not know any other way to interact with beautiful women. _Damn it all,_ he thought. _Haurchefant isn’t here._

He allowed himself the grin, for now. “Aye, there is the matter of Iceheart’s escape, but she cannot run forever. Whether it takes days, weeks, moons, or even years, my knights _will_ find her.” He felt her gaze on him, and their eyes met, but her face didn’t change, save for the slight twitch at the end of one of her eyebrows - there and gone again.

“In the meantime,” Aymeric was suddenly desperate to change the subject. “Lord Drillemont, is the caravan ready?”

The knight whose keep he had usurped during his stay in Coerthas gave a respectful half-bow. “The supplies that your men have recovered have been prepared for transport, in accordance with your wishes. Rest assured that my knights will see them safely to Revenant’s Toll.”

Aymeric nodded. “Of that I have no doubt.” 

“I take it these are the selfsame supplies the heretics stole from the House Fortemps caravan?” Alphinaud asked.

“Less the crystals which comprised the bulk of the shipment, yes.” He replied. “Scarcely a fraction of that which was promised, but a meaningful contribution to your cause all the same.” Aymeric found himself looking at (Y/N) again, hoping she could forgive the paltry offering. _Would that I were head of House Borel, then I could make it more worthy of a gift for you._

He realized, suddenly, that she would leave now. He was just a bit player in her adventuring, a friend of her lover, and she had no reason to tarry with him - no reason to let him know more about her than what Haurchefant felt like sharing. Aymeric knew that it was madness, but he wanted to have as much of her as he could allow himself to have. Her friendship, at least, if he could not have her heart.

“Ah, on an unrelated note… Lady (Y/N),” She tilted her head, but said nothing. “Might I trouble you to accompany me to Camp Dragonhead at your earliest convenience?”

The (R/N) opened her mouth to reply, but he soldiered on. “‘Tis not for my benefit.” _Liar,_ he thought to himself. “A certain lord was most distressed when he learned of your intent to risk life and limb to stop Iceheart.” Her face softened, at the mention of Haurchefant, and for a flicker of an instant, Aymeric hated him. “It took half a dozen knights to restrain him, I am told.” This was the only balm to his jealousy he could give - diminishing, but not erasing, Haurchefant’s devotion to her. “Men give vent to their anxieties in myriad ways.” He tried not to think about the _ways_ he did so. “Pray do not think less of him.”

(Y/N) smiled and shook her head. “I would never.”

The whole way to Camp Dragonhead, Aymeric cursed the fact that the woman had her own Chocobo. He had hoped to hold her, if only for a few moments, under stolen pretext. Maybe it was better this way.

* * *

**Haurchefant**

“What were you thinking, my love!?” Haurchefant began as soon as (Y/N) entered the keep at Camp Dragonhead, shaking the snow from her hair. "Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which _might_ allow you to enter Iceheart’s lair - knowing full well that she could have sufficient warning to complete her ritual and summon Shiva anyway…?” 

She was grinning, and he felt it drain what little frustration he had with her recklessness from his heart. “And then - and _then_ \- engaging the abomination in mortal combat!? By the Fury, darling! ‘Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages! Would that I had been there to fight at your side!” It was the truth. He wanted to watch her fight a truly fearsome foe. He had seen her use her bow during the training exercise months ago. He wanted to stand between her and whatever danger threatened, his shield raised, to defend her to the last while she rained arrows on their enemy. “Yet here I was forced to wait - _condemned_ to wonder at the fate of the one most dear to my heart for a veritable _eternity!_” He realized everyone was staring at him, and faltered for a moment. “I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…”

Why was Alphinaud smirking? Why was Yaelle’s face behind her hand, mirth in her eyes? Why was even Corentiaux, who should still be abed from his well-deserved beating, grinning? He thought over what he’d said, and it dawned on him, causing him to blush deeply. _’My love’,_ he had called her. _’The one most dear to my heart’,_ he had said. The knights would never let him hear the end of this - so publicly declaring his vulnerability.

Haurchefant ran a hand over his face and sighed. “But you are here now, and that is what truly matters. Let us move on.” He gave her a pleading look. “Ser Aymeric wished to have words with you and Master Alphinaud in private. He awaits us in the intercessory.”

As they turned to head out of the keep, Haurchefant coughed, “(Y/N).” She turned back to him, motioning for Alphinaud to go on. The boy rolled his eyes, but didn’t linger, so he continued. “Could I speak to you privately a moment? In my office?”

* * *

(Y/N) nigh _bounced_ as her back hit the stone wall behind his desk, but Haurchefant couldn’t keep his hands off her. He had been so worried, _so_ afraid of losing her, and the relief that flooded him was the most potent aphrodisiac he could imagine. He needed to touch her _everywhere_ just to confirm she was alive.

“Don’t you ever do anything that reckless again,” he whispered, pawing in frustration at her leather bodice between anxious kisses. “I nearly killed my second in command, in fear of what might happen to you.”

She pulled away from his mouth, turning her head so his lips found her ear instead. “I will do what I must, Haurchefant.” His grip on her tightened and she shook her head. “I’m serious. You are not my - “ He silenced her with another kiss, catching her lips and pressing her lips open with unabashed greed. After a few moments, she pulled away again. “You are not my husband, Haurchefant.”

“I want to be.”

The words slipped out on their own, and they both froze. (Y/N) looked up at him, her eyes wide, and there was some unnameable emotion in them that he wanted to see more of, but a moment later, she shook her head. “You’re only saying that because you’re sexually repressed and running on adrenaline.”

“I’m not,” he argued. “Ask Aymeric. I told him I was going to marry you.”

“Did you?” her voice was playful. “Was that before or after they had to use a gagglefuck of knights to keep you from chasing after me?”

Haurchefant blushed deeply. “He… told you about that.” 

She nodded, but placed her hand on his chest, pushing him away. “Come on, Haurchefant. Let’s go see what Aymeric has to say. I doubt he’ll appreciate being made to twiddle his thumbs while you fumble about with my clitoris.” (Y/N) pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Provided it’s nothing urgent, you can have me the rest of the day, and all of tonight, before I leave in the morning.”

“So soon?” He knew he was pouting.

“Yes, so soon,” (Y/N) replied. “I have responsibilities far from here, that must be seen to.” Her laughter warmed his heart, even if the topic did not. “Besides, I fear if I stay too long this entire fortress will grind to a halt while you get lost between my thighs.” She placed a hand on his neck, and pulled him close for another kiss. “I promise, I will return. I will _always_ return, until I can stay for good. Then we can talk about marriage.”

“I can accept that,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

* * *

Haurchefant smiled down at (Y/N) as they entered the intercessory, hands twisted together. While he felt some guilt over Aymeric’s feelings for her, he could not bring himself to change his mind about keeping her for himself. His friend had been right - it was not like Aymeric’s grandfather, the Count de Borel, would permit him to marry an outsider.

The Lord Commander was seated, and he closed his eyes for the briefest moment. A sign, Haurchefant knew, that he was pushing down his emotions, pretending they were not there. When he opened them again, it was with all the seriousness his position demanded. “On behalf of the Holy See of Ishgard,” Aymeric said, “allow me to express my deepest thanks. Never before have we been required to contend with a primal. Indeed, there were fears in some quarters that our knights might not be equal to the task.”

(Y/N) listened to the man without batting an eye, or showing much emotion at all, but to Haurchefant, who knew Aymeric almost too well, he was giving away so much. If they had been alone - if Aymeric were just a little less sober - he would be weeping. _How deep must she have gouged him, that he must retreat so far behind his titles?_

“From what we have now learned of these beings,” Aymeric continued, “I can say with certainty that we would have lost a great many men had the Scions not intervened.” 

“Then the argument for preemptive action should be self-evident.” Alphinaud said, to Haurchefant’s surprise. He’d forgotten the boy was even there. “Perchance now you will reconsider my proposal that Ishgard move against Natalan?”

Aymeric turned his frozen, titles-and-rank-and-politics mask on the boy, and Haurchefant winced. He may be all propriety, but his dislike for the child was palpable. “Ere we first met, a similar proposal was tabled,” he said, seemingly the soul of patience, but there was an air of condescension about his words. “But the Holy See decreed that we were to observe, and that military action should be taken only in self-defense.” He leaned back in the chair and flicked his hand in a bored manner, leaning his chin on the heel of his palm and watching the boy. “All things considered, it was not an unreasonable decision. Since the Calamity, two vigils have fallen to the Horde, while Garuda has never shown any inclination to storm the gates of judgement.”

Alphinaud said nothing, but glared petulantly. However, Aymeric continued. “... Which is _why_ this unprecedented crisis and its resolution _may_ prompt a change in policy.” He turned his attention back to (Y/N), and his voice instantly warmed. “You who have faced these primals know well the threat they pose. Ishgard did not - not until now.” He gave her that winning smile, and Haurchefant was surprised at the fact that (Y/N) didn’t react to it. At parties, that smile was all it took for ladies to start throwing themselves at Aymeric. He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table and folding his hands together. “And there is naught like a brush with death to change a man’s outlook.”

Still, it made Haurchefant strangely uncomfortable. He didn’t _blame_ Aymeric for his feelings, but he did begrudge him being so obvious when he himself was _standing right there._ “At the very least,” he interjected, “this should silence any lingering objections to our arrangement with Revenant’s Toll.” He shrugged. “The Holy See may even feel moved to grant us its formal endorsement.”

Aymeric bowed his head. “So far as it is possible, the Scions shall be compensated for their service.”

Alphinaud sniffed, but said courteously, “We should be grateful for any aid you can provide.”

“As a gesture of good faith,” Aymeric said, “I shall withdraw my previous request. Your people are doubtless needed elsewhere.”

_He’s trying to send her away,_ Haurchefant realized. _He knows he is compromised with her here, and so will not keep her close._

“That will not be necessary,” Alphinaud replied. “We too have a vested interest in watching Dravania’s movements.”

Aymeric’s answering, “I see,” might as well have been a crass ‘Fuck off’ for all the warmth with which it was delivered. “Once more, I must thank you.”

“Ser Aymeric, if I may…” Alphinaud began, “do you truly believe that Midgardsormr could return?”

The Lord Commander crossed his arms for a moment, and bowed his head in thought. “The heavens are a window unto truth,” he conceded, “but those who interpret their movements are not infallible. I requested your involvement as a precautionary measure.”

“But of course…” Alphinaud tapped his hand to his chin. “You sought an excuse to _compensate_ us from the first, mindful of what would happen if Revenant’s Toll were taken by your enemies.” The boy gave Aymeric an accusatory glare. “Ishgard is not wont to aid its neighbors, but that does not preclude it from manipulating them to serve its own interests.”

Lucia, Aymeric’s taciturn second in command, stepped forward, anger evident on her face. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Aymeric said nothing, but he turned his gaze ever so slightly toward her, the only expression he would give of disapproval. She immediately stepped back, mollified. “Do you know what sort of man becomes Lord Commander of the Temple Knights?” he asked Alphinaud, but immediately supplied the answer, “One who comes from good stock. I did not, yet here I am. Now, why do you suppose that is?”

The boy took a step back, but to Haurchefant’s dismay, (Y/N) took a step forward, as Aymeric continued, “Because I _swiftly_ learned to tell the difference between words, deeds, and beliefs.” He paused and inhaled through his nose, then said, “You are correct, Master Leveilleur. Ishgard desires to see Revenant’s Toll flourish, as it would present a troublesome obstacle to our enemies from the south.”

Alphinaud’s tone was insolent as he replied, “We are so glad to be of use to you.”

“As we are to you,” Aymeric countered. “Ours is a mutually beneficial arrangement, lest we forget. One born of necessity. The dragons grow more restless by the day, and the heretics harry us nigh without cease.” He leaned back and returned to his relaxed, almost off-hand demeanor. “We have contended with such troubles for centuries, but there are limits to even our endurance.” Aymeric’s eyes flicked to (Y/N) then to Haurchefant. It was a warning, subtly given, that Haurchefant understood too clearly. _I am doing my best,_ he seemed to be saying, _but I cannot last forever if pressed._

“Yet,” he didn’t even pause with that barely-noticeable warning, “as a pauper is loathe to part with his meager possessions, the leaders of Ishgard are not wont to render up their trust to outsiders. But, with perseverance on _our_ part, they may yet be made to see the light.” He gave a small smile to the boy, but it was icy. “Nevertheless, one must take care when walking the road less travelled.” 

“Wise words, Ser Aymeric.” Alphinaud’s haughty tone was grating, and Haurchefant saw (Y/N) surreptitiously raise her hand to her face. “I shall make a point to remember them.” The boy saw (Y/N)’s motion, and frowned slightly. “I must apologize for my earlier outburst. I hope it will not sour our good relations.”

“Not at all,” Aymeric’s tone was dismissive. “You but spoke from the heart.” His attention immediately shifted from the boy to (Y/N). “I trust you understand that, at times, my duties may prevent me from meeting with you. On such occasions, my second-in-command will speak for me.” He gestured to the taciturn knight.

She stepped forward, and saluted. “Lucia, at your service.” She relaxed, and glanced between Aymeric and Haurchefant, then gave (Y/N) a sympathetic smile. “Pray, excuse our reticence. We are but wary of speaking true freely, lest our sentiments be made known to our enemies. Know that the Lord Commander and I are of one mind. For the sake of Ishgard - and of Eorzea at large - I pray our peoples can put aside their differences.”

Haurchefant watched as Lucia’s eyes slipped from (Y/N), back to Aymeric. “Those who dwell in the past risk losing sight of their future.”

Aymeric seemed to take no notice, and gave the Warrior of Light another seductive smile. “Should aught befall one of our shipments, pray inform Lucia immediately. You may also relay to her any words you might have for me alone.” The implication, that Aymeric and (Y/N) might have some clandestine conversations frustrated Haurchefant. He knew Aymeric was toeing the line of propriety here, but he wasn’t sure how much leash to give his friend in regards to flirting with (Y/N). He hadn’t expected seeing them together to make him feel this protective of his relationship with her.

“Not being of Ishgardian birth,” Aymeric continued, and Haurchefant suddenly realized he was _baiting_ him. Aymeric was doing this for some inscrutable purpose, that he did not yet know. “She owes no allegiance to any noble house, making her as near incorruptible as one can find in my homeland. Suffice it to say, I trust her completely, and so may you.”

“Which reminds me,” Aymeric caught his friend’s gaze. “Lord Haurchefant, if you would be so kind.”

* * *

**Aymeric**

Aymeric de Borel packed the last of his things into his satchel, and patted his chocobo affectionately. Lucia stood nearby, watching him. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked. “Leaving me here? You may need my assistance in the -”

“Yes,” Aymeric turned and faced Lucia, his face pained. “I was not lying when I said I trust you completely. That includes with her. I will not be able to work - not be able to function properly - if I am constantly worried for her. But I know, if anything should happen, you will inform me immediately. So long as I hear no news regarding her, and I know you are watching, I can handle the politics.”

Lucia sighed and saluted. “Then I pray this is the most boring assignment you have ever given me.”

He laughed, and clasped her arm. “So do I.” 

He climbed atop the Chocobo, and ruffled its feathers affectionately, before looking back at Lucia. “One more thing - for the love of Halone, don’t tell me about their relationship. It killed me to see her hand in his. To see that little mark on her neck that I _know_ he left there.” Aymeric closed his eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

She saluted. “As you say, Lord Commander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is smut you filthy heathens.


	7. Resolve [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant questions his own resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING

**Haurchefant**

The night was cold - bitterly cold. Haurchefant motioned to the manservant, who added more wood to the already-roaring fire in the great room of the keep at Camp Dragonhead. Still, he could not shake the chill in his bones. It was as if Halone Herself had taken in a great breath, and the world waited in stillness for the bitter winter She would unleash.

Corentiaux nodded. “Going to be a cold one, I’d wager.”

“Aye,” Haurchefant said. The two of them had made amends after Coren had made a formal apology, and explained his use of the term had been merely to get Haurchefant to stop running off on what he perceived as a fool’s errand. Still, the man flinched if anyone bore a blade smaller than a sword around him, and Lord Greystone sometimes wondered what Aymeric’s words to him had actually consisted of.

Yaelle sipped on some mulled cider and reviewed the ledgers. “If this cold doesn’t let up we’ll have to send to the Count for additional funds. We’ve near depleted our supplies of wood and with the Dravanians acting up I’m loathe to assign more men to gather it.” 

“Mayhap some squires?” Coren suggested. “I know the lads will be slow about it, but the work does build strength and endurance, and can help offset the loss.”

Haurchefant groaned. “But then I have to write personal letters to every one of their knights begging leave for them.”

Shrugging, Yaelle said, “It could be worse. We could have to -” 

Despite the late hour, the doors to the keep groaned as they opened, admitting the slim frame of an Elezen boy. 

“Master Leveilleur,” Haurchefant said, rising. Alphinaud’s lips were blue, and Haurchefant caught him up in his arms and carried him to the fire where he trembled, his eyes staring vacantly at the roaring flames. “Alphinaud, what’s going on? Where’s…” A thousand horrors, a kaleidoscope of disasters danced through Haurchefant’s head as he asked, “Where’s (Y/N)?”

Alphinaud laughed softly, but it was a hollow sound, like a child whistling poorly through a reed pipe. “She’s all right,” he said. “She’s on her way.”

“What happened?” Haurchefant put his hand on Alphinaud’s shoulder. 

“The Sultana of Ul’dah is dead,” the boy replied, and though his eyes still seemed near-lifeless, the color had come back into his face. “And (Y/N) is accused of her murder.”

* * *

Corentiaux and Yaelle shuffled anxiously as Haurchefant paced. They’d sent Alphinaud to a back room, to rest closer to a fire, while they awaited (Y/N)’s arrival. The other Fortemps knights had seen Haurchefant in a myriad of moods - happy, sad, irritated, childish - but never had they seen him like this. He was the image of his father, the Count Edmont de Fortemps, in his blackest moods - a pillar of cold fury locked behind etiquette so sharp it could cut you to the bone. 

Every scrape of Haurchefant’s heel against the stone carved up the silence in the room, and made it seem chillier. Every clink of his chainmail made the firelight seem to grow dimmer. Both of them prayed for his lover’s swift arrival, if only to lift the oppressive feeling that crawled along both their spines.

Finally, the doors opened, and (Y/N) arrived, small and shivering and covered in snow. Haurchefant turned and made his way toward her, his steps keeping the same harsh staccato of his pacing until he was before her. He leaned over her, pushed the door shut, and pinned her against it, kissing her in front of the knights, the servants, and the Twelve with the kind of passion usually reserved for the privacy of one’s rooms.

When Haurchefant finally released her to breathe, he kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. He turned his head and said, “Leave us,” with the same grim finality Count Edmont used when he would brook no argument to his commands. As everyone quickly made their exits, Yaelle shook her head. It was truly the curse of House Fortemps that the child most like the Count would be his bastard.

“Master Alphinaud told me your tale, my love.” (Y/N) was sobbing then, clinging to him in desperation, and Haurchefant scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the fire just as he had carried Alphinaud, but in this instance, he sat himself and cradled her in his arms, making soft shushing noises while she wept. “It warms my heart that you should turn to me before all others.” He kissed her forehead. “I shall endeavor to deserve your trust.”

“Haurchefant,” she gasped between sobs. “I want to forget.”

“What do you mean?” he whispered, and buried his face in her hair.

“I want you to help me forget.” (Y/N)’s fingers slipped beneath his mail, and he jerked as her frigid fingers stroked his skin. “I want to feel like there is a place here for me.” She pulled him closer and kissed his neck. “I thought I had a place, amongst the Scions, in Ul’dah, but then…” She cried out as a sob wracked through her body. “Now I have nothing, and nowhere.”

“You have my heart,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead. “You have a seat at my table,” he kissed her cheek. “You have a place at my side,” he let his fingers twine in her hair, wondering if she realized what he was saying. 

“You have nights in my bed,” he whispered into the skin of her neck. “You have days in my hall,” he let his fingers trail along her armor, wet from the melted snow, and hoped he wasn’t about to get slapped. “My name, my titles and lands, should I ever get any, my future - you have it all.” He opened the front of her bodice and let his hands slide up beneath her shift, delighted to feel her warming beneath him. “You have me, (Y/N), until the day I die.”

They undressed each other, there before the fire, and he let his lips trail along her hairline. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Haurchefant,” Her voice was less shaky, now, and she kissed him. 

So many emotions warred within him, and he pressed his forehead into the curve of her neck. “I want you, even though you’re hurting. Maybe because you’re hurting. I want to make you feel better, in what paltry ways I can.”

She chuckled softly. “I just want you to love me.” It was nice to hear her laugh.

“I do love you,” he said, “Enough to make me question my resolve.”

“What do you mean?” She let her fingers roam gently over his chest while he leaned over her. 

“I mean,” Oh, Halone, could he say this? Could he confess this to her, now, when she was already so vulnerable? Why did that make him want it more? “I mean I want to make love to you. I know what I said, before, about waiting but…” 

He looked at her hopefully, but saw that she would not give him an easy out. She was going to make him say it. “When I said I planned to marry you, before, it was not lust or desperation or a joke. If I cannot marry you, (Y/N), then I won’t marry anyone at all. I’d rather spend my life unwed, with you as my mistress, and have a dozen bastards, then have anyone else at all.”

“You know I’m amenable regardless,” she whispered, and he felt her thigh against his side, “But I don’t want you to regret anything with me.” (Y/N) must have seen the uneasiness in his face, because she stroked his cheek with her hand. “No matter what you choose, I will love you just the same tomorrow as I do right now.”

He looked down at her, and thought about the last hour. About everything that had happened to her in the last day. Her place in the world had been upended, and she came to him, out of all the friends and allies she had made over her adventures, she had chosen _him_ as her safe harbor. She needed reassurance, to show her that at least here, at least with him, she had someone she could rely on. Someone who would risk everything for her. And so he would, in the end, risk everything.

“Help me,” he whispered into her lips as he took her hand, and guided it to his cock. (Y/N) didn’t require further explanation, and took over, clutching his shaft in her hands and tilting her hips. He could feel her heat on his tip, and his whole body began to shudder with excitement when she whispered, “Right there.” Then he pushed himself forward with a thrust of his hips, and was lost in warmth and wetness and a grip so tight he gave thanks to Halone for everything that had led him to this moment.

“O~oh,” was all he could manage to say, though. It seemed Haurchefant owed his father an apology.

She laughed softly, and it sounded more like her than the despairing thing that had come crawling into his arms, and he smiled down at her, laughing himself. Then she moved her hips. If just being inside her had been amazing, the feeling of her movement was absolutely Divine. He was trembling inside her, barely able to keep control of himself in the face of some primal instinct trying to scream commands.

“(Y/N)...” he groaned. “(Y/N), I…” 

“Let go,” she whispered. “I’m here, and I love you, and I will be yours as long as you’ll have me, Haurchefant. No matter what.” So he did as his beloved asked, and let go. 

He pressed her into the rug, moving his hips the way his body commanded - far more versed in this act than his mind - and was delighted with every gasp and moan and giggle she repaid him with. Sadly, with his inexperience, he did not last long, and only a few moments later he was lost in the throes of an orgasm, his mouth firmly locked on hers to drown the cries he feared would echo off the stone and draw attention to them both.

“Sorry,” he whispered, blushing in embarrassment as he released her lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

She laughed and ran her fingers over his back. “Don’t apologize. I knew it was your first time. To be honest, I’m surprised you were able to last as long as you did.” 

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint, then.” He brushed her hair out of her face and let his fingers run along her hair and down to her jaw, tracing its shape. She was smiling again, and that was worth all the broken vows he could imagine. “Tell me, my love, what would you have of me?”

“As much as I would like to tarry with you here, I must admit I’m worried someone will walk in on us.” She kissed him and shifted slightly, so he pulled away from her so she could dress again, while he saw to his own clothing and armor. “Besides, Alphinaud’s probably worried sick, and I must bear up under this for him. Maybe then we can figure out what we’re doing.”

_The boy,_ Haurchefant thought, and winced. He’d completely forgotten him after sending him away to warm himself. “That’s probably for the best. The situation here has grown more complicated in your absence. ‘Twould be best if I explained in full.”

* * *

**Aymeric**

Aymeric looked to Lucia, whose face had grown dark in thought. “You suspect as well.”

“Aye,” she said. “But at least we know where she will go.”

“Yes.” He felt his heart cloud at thought. He knew exactly to whom (Y/N) would run, and cursed every god it wasn’t _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with Heavensward! I hope you all enjoy it!


	8. Regardless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot chocolate, a link pearl, and a refusal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get to this - things have been crazy with Thanksgiving and Christmas, but hopefully now that the family oriented holidays are over I can focus a bit more on my writing!

**Aymeric**

Aymeric scowled at the knight standing before his desk. “So these Dravanians just… left, as soon as a few of them were slain within the city. And no one saw fit to contact me so that I could return to the state function that I was engaged in and not drastically harm our relations with the Eorzean Alliance?”

“S-sorry, sir,” the man glanced askance. “Our orders were to summon you back to deal with the Dravanians. That was all. We -”

“Get out of my sight.” Aymeric’s voice was cold, and it was all he could do to keep himself from grabbing the idiot and beating him senseless. Sensing something in his demeanor, the knight scurried out the door, leaving the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights alone with Lucia.

“Head to Camp Dragonhead. Find (Y/N),” Aymeric said, glaring daggers at the space he had occupied. “Once you know she is safe, I want to know how much was paid and to whom, to get - and _keep_ \- me out of there. And I want to know if it was mere happenstance, or if someone other than you and I and Haurchefant know that…” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence. “Find her, first. That’s the most important thing.”

Lucia saluted, and strode out the door, and he was alone. Aymeric’s fist slammed onto his desk and he uttered an unrepeatable curse.

* * *

**Haurchefant**

(Y/N) sat on Haurchefant’s desk as he spoke, but kept her eye on Alphinaud, who slumped in a nearby chair. “There has been word from the capital,” Haurchefant said. “Ishgard has weathered another assault, and ‘tis said several wyverns broke through into the city proper. The Temple Knights succeeded in slaying the beasts, but the intrusion prompted orders to further strengthen the guard and to place the city under a perpetual state of alert.” 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “How keenly we feel the loss of our wards at the Gates of Judgement… Yet we must not bemoan our misfortune. Ser Aymeric is safely returned from Ul’dah and once more leads the defense of Ishgard.” Haurchefant watched (Y/N)’s face as he mentioned his oldest friend, but saw nothing but the barest flicker of recognition. “As for the matter of your asylum, I am afraid no progress will be made until the threat to our nation has diminished.”

Haurchefant stood and walked around the desk, putting a hand on her shoulder. “But do not despair! You are not without allies. You are more than welcome to shelter here for as long as you wish. Pray think of it as a new headquarters of sorts - the ‘Falling Snows’ or some such!” He chuckled. “All frivolity aside, any who come here in search of you will receive no aid from House Fortemps. For once, the Ishgardian reputation for inhospitality shall work in our _favor.”_ He stroked her hair gently, still regretting that they’d rushed into this meeting so soon after… that. He longed to take her back to his room, build the fire as high as he could, and hold her until sleep claimed them both. “Agents of Ul’dah will find their every inquiry dismissed, and their every request for entry rebuffed, until such time as their masters have acknowledged your innocence.”

They glanced at Alphinaud, who was still staring mutely at the floor. “You once fought to preserve the honor of my dear friend - ‘tis a blessing that I may now repay that debt in kind.”

He kissed (Y/N)’s head through her hair. “But let us dwell no more on this. Pray join the rest of your companions. ‘Tis bitterly cold this day. I suspect there are those who might welcome the warmth your presence brings.”

She stood, and clutched Haurchefant’s hand for a moment. Her gaze conveyed more than any words could, before she released him to tend to the boy, leaving with him for the Intercessory.

As soon as they were gone, he slumped against his desk and ran a hand through his hair. Though his body was exhausted from the day, his mind spun with energy that could only come from giddy relief. He had lost his virginity to (Y/N), and despite the fact they were unmarried, the world had not come crashing down. 

He needed to do something to relieve the elated tension in his skin, so he made his way down to the kitchen. Despite the late hour, a few servants were gathered together, beginning to bake the bread that would be used that day. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said. “I was hoping I might be allowed to cook something?” They bobbed quick curtseys and went back to preparing the dough that had been left to rise the night before, casting shy glances as he stood in the larder and thought.

(Y/N) needed comfort. She needed to feel loved and cared for and _Halone,_ so did the rest of them. A memory stirred in the back of Haurchefant’s mind - his own mother, standing in the kitchens of the house she served, while he wept into her skirts the day he learned what a _bastard_ was.

He remembered what she had made for him, then, and started picking things from the shelves of the chilly room. The servants seemed disquieted to see their Lord’s son actually _cook,_ but at his blushed admission it was for (Y/N), a few of them giggled, and gave a bit more instruction. Soon he was chopping a chocolate bar into small pieces while the women heated a few croissants in the oven. 

Twenty minutes later, he pushed his way into the Intercessory, setting down the cups of hot chocolate for his love and her compatriots as a servant set a plate of baked goods on the sideboard. While (Y/N) and the other women, Tataru and Yugiri, seemed to be bearing it well, the boy was still hollow and crushed.

“So, Master Alphinaud,” Haurchefant asked. “Are you content to remain a broken blade? Is there no flame hot enough to reforge you?” He glanced at (Y/N). “What of the fine companions who yet stand at your side? I daresay the fires of their determination will soon have you slicing the air again with your customary wit.”

“I hardly deserve such friendship,” Alphinaud said. “And besides, where are we to go…?”

Tentatively, Tataru approached the boy. “Alphinaud? If I may…?” He turned his head slightly toward her. “Should this place not serve our purpose, then… then we shall go to Ishgard!” She became more energetic. “Minfilia told me many times: as long as we stand fast against despair, the beacon of hope will never be lost to sight. Be it in the snow, or in the clouds, we few will see that the dawn’s light shines again!” Haurchefant surreptitiously let his hand come to rest at the small of (Y/N)’s back, and she didn’t flinch or pull away. He wondered how long it would take for such movements to become second nature to them, and though he enjoyed the way his heart thrilled every time his fingers found her skin, he wanted their closeness to be the expected way of things even more.

Alphinaud smiled slightly. “You are right, Tataru, thank you. And thank _you_ for your kind words, Lord Haurchefant.” He sighed. “Tis true that Eorzea yet has her guardians. The Scions have achieved much, and ‘twould be remiss of me to discard it all in a fit of self-pity.” The boy sat a little straighter. “Let us then resume our journey, together… one step at a time.” (Y/N) tilted her head, slightly, bringing it to rest on Haurchefant’s chest, before they slipped quietly back to his rooms.

* * *

A sharp rap at the door to Haurchefant’s office-bedroom woke him from a sound sleep. He cursed under his breath and checked to make sure it hadn’t woken (Y/N), who had indulged her own private grief once she didn’t have to worry for Alphinaud. Thankfully, she slept on, and he pulled himself out of the bed before pulling the blankets up to her chin. 

Haurchefant stared at her sleeping for with unabashed longing while he pulled on a robe and tried to tug the small divider a little further to conceal the bed. _Halone,_ he thought, _I’ll have to see about moving myself into an office with proper chambers._

That was it, of course, the thought that drove home all of this was real. Though the situation was tragic, he wanted to go run outside and scream his joy to every knight in service in the outpost. (Y/N) was here. Not for one night, or three nights, not even that blissful week she’d managed a few months ago. She was here for the foreseeable future. Her plan was to seek asylum in Ishgard, his _home._

It had been her condition, before they married - that she be in a position to stay for good. He couldn’t bring it up _now,_ of course, not with her own tragedies so recent. But soon, maybe he could broach the subject.

He opened the door to see Lucia standing outside, stiffly formal.

“My Lady,” he began. “The hour is early yet, perha-”

“Is she here?” The woman’s tone was clipped.

“Yes.” He knew she would report to Aymeric.

“Is she unharmed?”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally…” Haurchefant sighed. “She is devastated by what happened. Most of the Scions are missing or dead, in a bid to see that she and young Alphinaud escaped.”

Lucia exhaled softly. “He’ll be glad to hear that.”

“You know, then?”

She nodded. “I’m by his side more often than not.” Her lips twisted into a crooked smile. “He’s not hard to read, once you know what you are looking for.”

Haurchefant glanced down at his robe. “Should I tell him?”

“He told me he did not want details,” Lucia said, “but if he must be told, it is better if it comes from you.”

“It’s a matter of honor.”

She watched him sidelong for a moment. “I will not pretend to understand what goes on in the minds of others when it comes to love. I am not... “ she paused, “I am not driven by desires like that. But from what I have observed, the only thing you Elezen do more dramatically than war is romance. If you tell him, it will break his heart. If you don’t tell him, he will carry that torch until the day he dies.”

He laughed. “He will carry the torch regardless. Few things are more in keeping with Aymeric’s character than an unrequited love.”

* * *

**Aymeric**

Aymeric sat slumped in his office, staring dully at the breakfast tray one of the squires had brought in, his mood as black as it had been the night before. Lucia had contacted him via linkpearl to assure him that (Y/N) was well, but had remained on his command, to ask her what had happened and report back to him.

A muffled chiming reached him from the right hand drawer of his desk, and though he was momentarily confused, the memory surfaced unexpectedly - _the Warrior of Light pressing it into his hand, “Just in case,”_ \- and he nearly tore the drawer off its tracks to reach the linkpearl within.

“(Y/N),” he breathed. Halone, he hoped his voice did not sound too desperate. 

“Aymeric.” Her voice was delicate, like a crust of ice atop day-old snow. “I assume by now you’ve heard what happened.”

“I’ve heard what the official dispatch from Ul’dah tells me, not that I give credence to a word of it.” 

“I didn’t do it.” (Y/N) inhaled sharply, and he realized it was the start of a quickly-stifled sob. 

Something broke inside him at that. His mind raced ahead without him, imagining himself there, pulling her into his arms, crushing her head against his chest. He would love her and protect her until the day he died, Halone and all the gods damn him for a fool. But he remembered his friend, Haurchefant, and slowly pulled himself back from the precipice of running to her side. He knew if he started that journey, he wouldn’t stop, and wouldn’t accept anything less than the return of his overzealous affection.

“Where is Haurchefant?” Aymeric asked quietly.

(Y/N) made a strange noise. “He said he had to go speak to his father, and that he’d be back tonight.”

“He left you alone.” Forget wishing for Haurchefant’s death, he had half-a-mind to kill the man himself. “After everything?”

“He apologized,” her voice did not carry the conviction to convince him her forgiveness was genuine. “And went to speak to his father.”

Aymeric chuckled. “Yes, I’d gathered that much, love.” His heart clenched in his chest. He’d never used a pet name on her, least of all one as intimate as that.

(Y/N) pretended she hadn’t noticed. “Well, maybe you can go find him and send him back to me.”

They said nothing a few moments, the silence pregnant with everything he wanted to say to her.

_”I love you.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“You deserve better than this.”_

_“Forget him, be mine.”_

But in the end, “As my lady commands,” was all he managed to choke out before he tore the linkpearl from his ear and threw it across the room. He went chasing after it a moment later, to keep it close in case she called again.

* * *

**Haurchefant**

“What do you mean, _’No’?”_ Haurchefant exclaimed, pacing in his father’s study.

Count Edmont de Fortemps leaned his head to one side. “Haurchefant. It is one thing to support their ragged band when they are outside the city. It is another thing to bring an accused murderer and her compatriots into Ishgard itself.”

“I don’t care,” he knew the response was childish and petulant, but he needed the moment his father’s exasperation would provide to regroup. Like clockwork, the Count sighed and rubbed his temple. 

“Please, take a moment and think. House Fortemps cannot -”

“I’ve asked her to marry me.” The words were out of Haurchefant’s mouth before he thought them through, and Edmont’s expression went from pained to shocked, but he barrelled forward. “I don’t particularly care if you approve. But if she is not welcome in Ishgard, then I’ll remain at Camp Dragonhead a year at most, until a replacement can be found. Then she _and I_ will leave Coerthas.”

“Why?” His father leaned back in his chair. “Why do you want to marry her?”

Haurchefant sat in silence for a long time. “When I’m with her, I’m the man - the _knight_ \- I’ve always wanted to be. When I’m with her, I feel like anything can be borne.” He swallowed. “When I’m with her, I forgive you for what you put my mother through. When I’m with her, I forget that I’m a bastard.”

Edmont rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Return to Camp Dragonhead. I’ll send word tomorrow with my response. I need to think.”

Haurchefant stood, and offered his father a formal bow. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. I always blamed you for my mother’s sake. I didn’t know, until now, what loving someone was like.”

“We’ll speak again soon, Haurchefant.” His father’s voice was soft, but clearly a dismissal.

It’s less than a quarter of an hour after the boy has left that a page appears in the doorway. “Lord Aymeric to see you, Count Edmont.”

Edmont raised an eyebrow. “The Lord Commander? Very well, send him in.”


	9. Flagrant [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant brings (Y/N) to Ishgard, and Aymeric receives an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little smut but I tagged it regardless.

**Haurchefant**

Haurchefant rushed toward the Intercessory, the papers clutched in his hands. It had been the first time he’d stood against his father so strongly - the first time he had threatened to leave, as many noble bastards did. 

The count’s letter had been short, of course. _Bring her to Ishgard, and we shall see if I approve of your marriage._ But they both knew that the invitation was the capitulation - bringing her to the city as a ward of House Fortemps was far more of an imposition to the house than their marriage could ever be. Now to find a way to ask the woman properly.

As he entered the Intercessory, he found (Y/N) and her compatriots deep in conversation, though all eyes turned to him at once. He’d heard their discussion - dividing their energies and going to different corners of the realm - but he gladdened again at the folded parchment in his pocket.

“Pray, do not be so hasty, Master Alphinaud,” Haurchefant said.

The young man blinked in confusion. “Lord Haurchefant?”

He stepped closer, taking his place by his beloved’s side. “Full well do I understand your desire to clear your names. But now is not the time for drastic action.” He laughed. “You yet have allies upon whom you can rely. There is no need to act alone.”

Tataru and (Y/N) gave Alphinaud encouraging smiles, and the latter leaned against Haurchefant as he slipped his arm around her.

“Yes,” the boy said, “Yes, of course. Pray forgive my impatience.” 

Haurchefant nodded happily, then turned to the Warrior of Light. “I bring tidings. Count Edmont has decreed that the three of you be taken in as wards of House Fortemps.” Her face broke into a dazzling smile, and he decided his fit at his father’s house had most definitely been worth it. “Under our patronage, you shall be granted access to the city proper.” He kissed her forehead. “Pray, consider our manor your new headquarters, from which you may gather information and plan how best to proceed. Needless to say, should any of your missing allies be found - as I am _certain_ they shall - they will of course be welcome to join you there.”

The three Eorzeans exchanged confident nods, and the gratitude in Alphinaud’s voice was palpable. “You are more than generous, my friend. On behalf of my fellows, I humbly accept your offer of hospitality.”

“The Count is a good man and just. He will treat you with the kindness and respect that a hero - and hopefully soon, his son’s _fiancée_ \- deserves.” He squeezed her a little tighter, but something flickered behind her eyes, and she turned to see her friends.

“To Ishgard, then,” Alphinaud said, and (Y/N) took one of his hands, while Tataru took the other. “Together.”

* * *

A few minutes later found Haurchefant preparing his Chocobo and (Y/N) standing restlessly beside him. “I must head to Ishgard and speak with my father,” he said, “but sentries at the Gates of Judgement have been informed of our decision. You need but state your names, and they will allow you to pass.” 

He glanced sidelong at her where she fidgeted by his side. Over the past few days she had relied on him in ways that pleased him, and he still felt guilty for abandoning her to make his case to his father. He sighed. “Perhaps _you_ could ride ahead with me, and Alphinaud and Tataru could catch up?”

“Is that permitted?” she asked nervously.

“Who’s going to object?” Haurchefant laughed. “If you don’t want to, it’s all right.” 

“I do,” she said, “I just…” A blush flooded her cheeks. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Haurchefant laughed and pulled himself up into the saddle, then reached down and offered his hand. “I want to be inconvenienced by you, (Y/N). I could only be so lucky to have a life filled with your inconveniences.” He smile must have reassured her, because she took his hand, and he hauled her up onto the Chocobo as well, so she sat sidesaddle before him.

Her blush deepened as his arms snaked around her to grab the reins. “You had better not get too handsy, Haurchefant,” she commanded.

“You’ve never objected to my handsiness before.” He pulled her close and nipped at her earlobe.

“I know Ishgardians have… rules… about that sort of thing,” she said as he spurred the Chocobo on toward the city.

“Rules that are flagrantly disregarded, as my existence proves.” 

“Still… I want to make a good impression.” (Y/N) fidgeted in his lap and he tried to keep his mind on the topic at hand, but her obvious discomfort cooled his ardor more than anything else could.

“There are still impediments to our relationship, but not insurmountable ones.” He kissed her temple. “This, getting you into the city under my father’s protection, this was the hardest one.”

They stopped at the Gates of Judgement, and Haurchefant took no small amount of pleasure in introducing her as “The Warrior of Light, (Y/N) (L/N).” He was practically giddy as the guards waved them past, and he brought her into the city proper. 

She gasped softly, and he watched her face as she took in the spiralling heights of his home, delighted at the awe and childlike wonder. When she seemed to come back to herself, he leaned close and whispered, “What do you think?”

“It’s…” Her eyes sailed back down the spires as she turned to meet his face. “It’s beautiful. Cold, but beautiful.”

Haurchefant pulled her a little closer to his chest. “Do you think you could be happy here?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Once I’ve had time to get to know it, and the newness rubs off of me.” (Y/N)’s playful smirk returned, and she caught his eye. “Maybe if I’m lucky, it’s not the only thing that will be rubbing off.”

“Insatiable,” he teased, as if he was not just as bad. Still, there had been one more thing he wanted to discuss with her. “(Y/N)...”

The change in his tone caught not just her attention, but his chocobo’s as well, and it gave a curious wark before he stuffed a green in its mouth. “Sorry… It’s about Aymeric.”

Something tensed in her back against him. “What about him?”

“You know how he feels about you, yes?” Haurchefant pressed his lips to her head through her hair. 

“You mean he doesn’t smile like that at every woman he meets?” (Y/N) asked.

He laughed. “He does, but… he’s a very passionate man. Still waters run deep, and all that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” As usual, she had little time for prevarication.

“Aymeric fancies himself in love with you. Throwing himself on the sword for me and eternally pining after you…” Haurchefant groaned. “He’s a bit of a sot like that. Anyway, I want you to give him the chance to court you.”

“What?” She asked incredulously. “Why?”

“Because I need to know, for sure.”

Her voice was dangerously quiet. “Know what?”

“That you are choosing me because you love me, and not because…” He sighed and dropped his head on her shoulder as the chocobo carried them on the familiar paths toward home. “And not because I’m just the one that found you first. I want you to be with the one who will make you happiest, not the one who lucked into it.”

(Y/N) frowned. “Do you think he’d show you any such kindness?”

“No,” Haurchefant laughed. “He’s obsessed with you.”

“Then why are you doing this for him?”

“Because you’re attracted to him as well.” He winked at her. “I’m not upset. Everyone is. Even me. When it comes to appearances, the man won the lottery.”

She exhaled slowly through her mouth. “That he did.” 

Haurchefant giggled. “Exactly. So, I would feel better if you gave him at least one chance. Even if nothing comes of it.”

They came upon a large manor in the pillars, and Haurchefant stopped abruptly. “Here we are!” His voice was giddy with excitement as he climbed down, then reached up and pulled (Y/N) off the chocobo and into his arms, giving her a soft kiss before setting her on the ground, just as Tataru and Alphinaud approached.

“That was… fast,” she said, and raised an eyebrow at Haurchefant. 

He laughed, a slight blush highlighting his cheekbones. “I _may_ have taken a slightly more circuitous route in an attempt to spend more time with you.” He clapped his hands together loudly. “But no matter! The Warrior of Light and her brave companions, walking the streets of Ishgard at last! What a glorious sight!”

He took both of her hands in his. “I cannot tell you how _long_ I have waited for this day,” Haurchefant said, near-giddy with excitement. “Allow me to present to you my family home: Fortemps Manor! I should like nothing more than to show you around, but everyone is gathered to receive you. Come, my love! Introductions to be made! I want you to meet my family.”

(Y/N) blinked slowly. “Family.”

The four of them entered the manor as Haurchefant schooled his expression. He _must_ show his father how serious he is. He _must_ not give the Count cause to regret this decision, not for a single moment. “My lord,” he said formally, “I have returned with the Scions.”

Count Edmont de Fortemps let his eyes drift across the group - the young elezen boy, underdressed for the weather must be Alphinaud; the small Lalafell woman in pink, Tataru; and, ah, the (R/N) woman, the one Haurchefant’s eyes kept drifting towards despite his attempts to appear guardedly neutral. That must be (Y/N) (L/N), with whom the boy was so besotted.

“I hope your journey was not too taxing,” he said diplomatically, extending an arm. “I, Count Edmont de Fortemps, do bid you welcome. As wards of House Fortemps, you shall be afforded every courtesy. My home is your home.”

He was mildly surprised when, instead of the Warrior of Light, it was the boy, Alphinaud, who stepped forward. “My companions and I are deeply honored, Count Fortemps.”

“The honor is mine, Master Alphinaud. Consider it an expression of our gratitude for your service to Ishgard.” 

The boy seemed disquieted. “Forgive me, my lord but… are you not concerned?” He looked up at the older man. “To accept foreign guests at such a juncture - especially ones with our… reputation…”

Edmont chuckled. “Do not worry yourself on my account. ‘Tis true that Ishgard’s first thought has ever been the war effort, hence the closing of our borders. Yet it is in troubled times most of all that men should seek allies, don’t you think?” He glanced over his shoulder at Artoirel and Emmanellain, both of whom nodded their agreement. “Granted, my decision will have raised eyebrows in the Vault and in the halls of the other High Houses. But so long as you continue your altruistic endeavors, I doubt my honored peers will feel moved to voice their concerns.”

Alphinaud beamed. “Then there is naught to fear. Though our numbers are much reduced, we are no less determined to carry on our work.”

The boy was full of youthful exuberance that reminded Edmont much of Haurchefant as a child. “Full glad I am to hear it. Ah, but before you return to your labors, why not take a tour of the city? You would do well, I think, to acquaint yourselves with your new surroundings. After all, you may be here for some time.” He let his gaze shift to (Y/N) who seemed unaware of the way Haurchefant was drawn to her. “I know that Lord Commander Aymeric was also adamant that you be admitted to the city. You would do well to visit him in his office.”

(Y/N) glanced at Haurchefant then, and the whole bloody business was too clear to Edmont. The men were both enamored of her, and though she had chosen his son, the fool boy intended to give the more experienced man - known amongst the High Houses for his propensity to break hearts - an honest chance.

“Haurchefant,” Edmont said, “While they explore, I would speak to you in my office, if you are available?” His face fell at the request, but he nodded obediently. “Supper will be served promptly at six. I do hope you will join us.” Then he turned for the stairs, ending the small welcome.

* * *

**Aymeric**

Lucia shouldered her way into Aymeric’s office and threw a comb down on his desk. “You have two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” He asked in confusion, already running it through his hair. “Until what?”

“Until the Warrior of Light comes through the door to drop in on you,” she said, grabbing the mess of paperwork from his desk and shoving it unrepentantly into a drawer. The dirty dishes from his luncheon soon followed.

With a heavy sigh, Aymeric said, “It doesn’t matter. She’s going to marry Haurchefant.”

“What is it your grandfather always says?” Lucia sighed heavily. _“‘Nothing’s final until they’re in the Vault.’_ Until the priests tie their hands together and say the words, their marriage may still not happen. Count de Fortemps hasn’t given his blessing yet.”

“I’m not trying to steal her away from him.”

“No one said you were. But if things don’t work for them, the Warrior of Light will still need a Champion in Ishgard.” She gave him a pointed look. “Or is she no longer worth the effort, since you’ve decided she could never return your affection.”

“She _won’t_,” he grumbled, but still he breathed surreptitiously into his hand to make sure his breath was passable, and checked his reflection in the small hand mirror he kept in a drawer to make sure nothing seemed too out of place. He was just shoving it away when the doors to his office opened, and he saw (Y/N) once again. 

Aymeric gave himself three breathless heartbeats to take in her beauty - her hair, turned a halo by the sunlight streaming in the windows along one wall; her eyes, so weary, but with some other unreadable emotion underneath; her skin, flushed from the cold, but flushing deeper still for a reason he could not name. Then he forced himself to stand, and give a half-bow. “My lady,” he said, and there it was again, that seductive smile. Forget Haurchefant. Lucia was right. He would walk this knife’s edge until things were decided, one way or another.

“Ser Aymeric,” she replied, taking another step into the room. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Not at all.” He wondered if she could hear the way his heart thundered in his chest.

“I’ll just go and fetch some tea,” Lucia said.

“Thank you,” he told his second-in-command, and the woman gave him an encouraging wink over (Y/N)’s shoulder as she strode out of the room, leaving them alone at last.

“Please,” he said, “sit. I’m glad to see you are well.”

She carefully folded her legs under herself - Halone, he could watch her do that all day - and perched in the carved wooden seat. “Was everything all right?”

For a moment Aymeric didn’t understand the question, then realized (Y/N) was asking after his being called away from the banquet. “It was nothing of import.”

“Oh.” It was only when she’d glanced aside that he realized it had been the wrong answer. He told himself he loved her, but when she and hers were in danger, he allowed himself to be called away on the barest of pretexts. 

“(Y/N), I feel I must beg your forgiveness. I-” He was interrupted by Lucia pushing open the door again, carrying a tea tray. 

She set it on his desk and smiled at (Y/N). “Forgive me that I don’t have time to chat, my friend. Things are quite busy.”

“Aah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have imposed.” 

She began to stand, but Lucia shook her head. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. Please, have some tea. Lord Aymeric won’t say it, but he’s been worrying himself sick over you.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow and met his gaze, and Aymeric held it for a moment before looking away. “Sugar?” He asked, pouring her a cup. A momentary flicker of relief filled him - Lucia had seen fit to break out the good china rather than the simple steel cups they usually used.

“Please.” She settled back into the seat, and Aymeric brought her the cup, balanced on the small porcelain saucer decorated with blue and gold lacework.

Aymeric knelt beside her chair and handed it to her, and she watched him nervously. “As I was saying - I must beg your forgiveness. I had thought some other, lesser political game was afoot. If I had known you were…” His voice trailed off, and he found himself lost in the scent of her perfume, something floral that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it over the smell of the tea. “I…” he said, trying to catch himself, and a knowing light entered her eyes.

(Y/N) leaned closer to him, tilting her head, a playful smile on her lips. “You…?”

“I must confess, I…” All thoughts had flown from his head, and he realized he could feel the barest edges of her breath on his skin. “(Y/N), I…”

She laughed - a deep, rich laugh he’d never heard before, that spoke of secret delights and dark desires - and leaned away, sipping her tea. “If you can ever think of what you wanted to say, I’d love to hear it.”

He stood and stepped away from her. (Y/N) had to know what she was doing to him. She had to know of his devotion. He slumped back in his chair with a frustrated growl and poured a cup for himself, taking it without milk or sugar in a straight shot while she watched him. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He said to break the silence.

“Only one, then I must go,” she replied.

“Why do you love Haurchefant?” Aymeric knew it was a vain, childish inquiry, but he had to know. He needed some balm for what he was going to suffer. Their romance. Their wedding. Their marriage. Some proof that it was better this way.

After pondering a moment, she reached into her bag and placed a single gardenia on his desk, and he realized it was the scent she wore, the one that turned his head when he knelt beside her. Their gazes crossed, and she smiled softly. “Haurchefant has always had the courage to close the gap.”

Then she was gone.

Aymeric stared dumbfounded at the flower, and closed his eyes, revelling in the scent of her still lingering in the room. (Y/N) was addictive, unpredictable. She would have him, his soul, all else besides, and the only acknowledgement he would ever receive was the trembling flower, still on the branch, on his desk.

_Still on the branch…_ he thought, wondering at what it meant, even as Lucia came in, her eyebrows raised in silent question.

“Send for a florist. I will have no visitors until they arrive,” Aymeric ordered, and Lucia saluted.

“At once, my lord,” the woman replied, then she was gone again, leaving him alone with the flower, and the scent of (Y/N)’s perfume still lingering in the air. 

_The gods are cruel,_ he thought, as his fingers slipped into his breeches beneath his tunic. She had said said that was why she’d chosen Greystone - he had the courage to close the gap. It was only his own affection for Haurchefant that had kept him from doing the same, but for a few moments, at least, he would allow himself to dream of what would have happened if he had.

His mind spiralled with possibilities as to her taste the moment he touched his shaft, settling quickly on the tea they had shared, she would have had a sip after all. Sweet chamomile, a soothing comfort to the riot in his heart whenever he thought of her. 

Aymeric imagined her gasp, her lips parting for him in surprise and invitation, and one that he would gladly accept. He had kissed his fair share of ladies in the dance of courtly intrigue, but nothing more, so this, at least, was familiar ground - even if the sin of his desire being his dearest friend’s fiancée brought a groan to his lips.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, both in reality and in the fantasy as her phantom self parted her legs and he descended into illicit pleasures that he ever denied himself. It was the thought of her own fingers, sliding along his length and guiding him toward the heat that made up much of his midnight imaginings that undid him, and Aymeric clenched his teeth against the cry that should have accompanied his orgasm.

By the time Lucia returned with the florist, all had been set to rights. His hands were clean, the papers were back on the desk, the dirty dishes from his luncheon stacked helpfully on the tea tray as well. The only break in the pattern was the gardenia, still untouched where she had left it, his papers and trays and detritus of his position positioned around it like a worshipful halo.

“Lord Aymeric,” the man said, and smiled at the gardenia. “You have a paramour, ser?”

“No,” he replied, “our circumstances do not permit it. But I would keep this token as a reminder as long as I can. What can I do to ensure it lasts? And is there any special symbolism to the bloom still being on the branch?”

“Generally, my lord, a bloom on the branch means that it is growing, but not yet grown. It has potential to become that. The timing is not right for what the flower symbolizes.” The florist smirked. “Given what you have said, that makes sense. And if you wish to keep it, gardenias can be grown from cuttings like this. You could have a full size shrub in two to three years. Though I must warn you, these flowers are not native to Ishgard. It will take much work and accomodation for it to ever take root here.”

Aymeric took a fresh sheet of paper and a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write a new list.

_Work and Accommodation_   
_Not Native to Ishgard_   
_2-3 Years_   
_Timing not right_   
_Has potential, isn’t there yet._

He looked up from the paper. “How much?”

“How much for what, ser?” The florist tilted his head.

“For you to help me tend this flower. I…” He stared at the gardenia again. _Secret love._ “I would give anything to see it reach fruition.” 

Haurchefant was going to kill him.


	10. Primal [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant and (Y/N) encounter Bismarck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long for this chapter to get out. Truth be told I personally am not a Haurchefant kisser, but I feel like these chapters are important for the back half of the fic. Hopefully I'll be updating this with more regularity from here on out.

“... and you will return to Camp Dragonhead for the time being,” Edmont finished. 

Haurchefant was crestfallen. “But my lord, she _just_ got here. I was hoping to… to…”

The Count de Fortemps shook his head. “You are thinking in the short term, and not the long game, my son. What are your intentions towards Lady (Y/N)?”

“Wait, _you_ are asking me _my_ intentions?” Haurchefant asked incredulously. “I’m your son! You should be helping me!”

“I am helping you! At your insistence, I have accepted those three in as _wards_ of House Fortemps. Which means, until such time as she marries, (Y/N) might as well be my _daughter.”_ Understanding finally lit his son’s eyes, and he took a step back. “So now, in that capacity, I ask you what your intentions are.”

Standing up straight, Haurchefant eyed his father. He had no sisters upon whom to base what the Count’s next moves would be. “I intend to ask for the lady’s hand, if my father consents.”

Edmont’s smile grew. “Well, you have very little to recommend you I’m afraid. You come from a good family, at least, so you have that going for you, and you’ve been a knight for nigh-on a decade, but you’ll have to do more, considering I expect I’ll hear from another suitor soon.”

“Aymeric,” he breathed.

“It’s good to see you are aware of his affections.”

“But I thought it was secret,” Haurchefant said. “How do you know?”

Shaking his head, Edmont took a seat behind his desk and motioned for his son to make himself comfortable. “Young men are always obvious when a woman turns their heads, and if the tasks she is performing for Artoirel and Emmanellain are anything to go by, she will have turned everyone in the city in short order.” He rubbed his head. “And the Lord Commander was _keenly_ interested in her presence in Ishgard, far outside the usual realm of his responsibility.”

“What would you have me do?” Haurchefant asked.

“For now,” his father said, “return to Camp Dragonhead and ensure everything there is in readiness, and determine someone who will help Emmanellain with the post.”

“Emmanellain?”

Edmont nodded. “Of course. The boy needs to learn some responsibility. And if you are married, you’ll need to spend some time in the city with your wife. This is all in the future though. For now, you must find someone who can guide him on pro-”

“My lord!” Firmien burst into the room, and Edmont pushed himself to his feet in alarm. “It is your son. He’s been captured.”

_”Captured?”_ Edmont’s face twisted in incredulity.

“By the Vanu Vanu in the Sea of Clouds. According to the scout, Lady (Y/N) has gone to retrieve him, but they sent word regardless.” The steward looked anxiously toward Edmont, who turned to Haurchefant. 

“Forget Dragonhead for now. Go ensure your brother returns safely to the manor. Take any men you need.”

Haurchefant stood and saluted his father respectfully, then strode out without a word.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Haurchefant arrived in Camp Cloudtop, and the soldiers were mobilizing to go and save his younger brother. Honoroit ran up to him, still breathless. “Ser! Full glad we are of your presence! Lord Emmanellain -”

“Where are they?” he asked the boy. He did not intend to be so terse, but fear for his beloved choked away his etiquette, regardless of the voice that whispered in his mind that she was the Warrior of Light. Maybe to the rest of the world, she was, but not to him.

Honoroit took off like a shot, racing along the well-trodden paths, and Haurchefant followed as close as he could, motioning for the men to follow. The sounds of combat reached them long before they crested the hill, and Halone be praised - if he hadn't been in love with her before, he certainly was now. 

"Keep moving!" (Y/N) shouted to his baby brother, but she did not turn back to look. Instead, the (R/N) pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew, aiming not for the closing beastmen, but the heavens. The shot seemed to pierce the very clouds overhead before a rain of death hammered down upon the first wave of her enemies, leaving nothing but twitching bodies and a forest of fletching for their pursuers to overcome.

Haurchefant moved to her side, quick to interpose himself between the second wave and the Warrior of Light. "Help has arrived, (Y/N)!" he said, giving her a flirtatious grin as she nocked another arrow.

"Haurchefant, is that you!?" Emmanellain said, stumbling to a stop as the other knights took their places at his side. "Thank heavens! Get us out of here!"

"Keep Emmanellain safe, my love," he said. "We will hold them off!"

He felt her touch only for a heartbeat - a momentary press at the shoulder of his shield arm that he could feel through the chainmail, and he gave her a slight smile before focusing on the Vanu Vanu. Then the touch was gone, and he heard quick steps carrying her away.

The second wave hit and scattered quickly when faced with a squadron of knights, trained and properly armed. It only took a few blows to finish them and Haurchefant turned to follow his lover and his sibling.

The woman in question was firing arrow after arrow at the approaching enemies, clearing a path that Emmanellain raced down, his loud, panting breaths echoing off the rocks. To his surprise, (Y/N) suddenly turned and fired another arrow in his direction. It hummed past Haurchefant's ear and he heard a cry behind him; thus he turned to see a Vanu Vanu fall to the ground. 

When he looked back she was rushing ahead, nearly caught up to his brother and drawing the bowstring again to fire at an opponent nearing the southern edge of the path she had cleared. Three shots, and the creature fell, then she and Emmanellain raced onto the small land bridge.

Running to his lover's side, Haurchefant was about to chastise his brother when more footsteps approached from behind - he reflexively drew sword and shield while she whipped around and drew her bow. 

"Reinforcements?" he asked her as these new Vanu Vanu formed a half-circle around them.

An old and wizened beastman approached them, staff in hand. "Anger of Honu, chief of mighty Vundu, roils like blackest storm clouds!" he cried from beneath his carved and painted mask. "Offer netherlings to the White! Cloud sea swells and he comes!"

As the Vanu Elder lifted his staff, a great cry echoed from the clouds that surrounded the floating island. It grew louder - and louder _still_ \- until suddenly a great beast as large as the island itself breached the clouds as if they were the sea they were often called. It span slowly through the air in its arc over the island, its great, jagged maw open in its mournful wail. Then it crashed into the sea on the other side as Haurchefant stared in awe.

"The White! The White!" The Vanu Elder called. "Mighty Bismarck, Lord of the Mists!"

"A flying whale!?" Haurchefant asked in confusion. He glanced over to (Y/N) but she was already drawing her bow, aether charging the arrow on the string and illuminating the vicious grin on her face. "By the Fury," he shouted. "I-it's a primal!"

Emmanellain let out a little shriek of terror and bolted back towards Camp Cloudtop.

"We must away!" Haurchefant said, grabbing (Y/N)'s arm to keep her from firing. The grin vanished, but she nodded her ascent, and they both ran after the others.

Ahead, Emmanellain stumbled to a stop as other Vanu came from the land bridge, quickly surrounding their party and backing them toward the edge of the island. 

"Damn!" Haurchefant swore, but beside him, (Y/N) lifted her head as if she heard something, then straightened and looked towards the north. 

An airship approached, diving at a steep angle towards their location and coming to a rest within an easy jump from the island. 

"Cid!" (Y/N) called.

"All aboard!" the man shouted, and Haurchefant waited until he was sure Emmanellain, (Y/N), and the last surviving knight were aboard before leaping from the island and onto the airship himself.

Landing hard on one knee, he looked up the shapely legs before him to realize he had ended up at (Y/N)'s feet. He could not resist, and let his eyes slide up her body - over every delicious curve of her - until he saw the smug smirk on her face as she looked down at him. Haurchefant swallowed and whispered, "Oh, _Halone."_ As he climbed to his feet, he couldn't be sure if it was a curse or a prayer. 

Though Haurchefant could hear the others cheering his daring escape onto the airship, he only had eyes for (Y/N), and pulled her into his arms, kissing her roughly. "Your chambers," he murmured against her lips. "Tonight. As soon as -"

The whole airship tumbled to one side and he grabbed the (R/N) first, then the rigging, holding her tight against him as Cid narrowly avoided Bismarck's second pass with expert maneuvering. 

(Y/N) clung to him through the motions, and he was reminded of what he'd told his father just a few days ago: _"When I'm with her, I'm the knight I've always wanted to be."_

* * *

"Very well, I admit it: it was an incredibly harrowing experience. I could very well have _died,_ you know! Me! _Dead!"_ Emanellain's complaints to the Warrior of Light irritated Haurchefant, who was busy consoling the only surviving member of his squadron and already making plans to inform the rest of the men's families of their loss. 

The next words out of his brother's mouth had him gritting his teeth so hard he was shocked they didn't crack. "On the other hand, by risking life and limb in the line of duty, I did succeed in uncovering the existence of a new primal. And that, old girl, is no small feat! I have made _an historic discovery_ \- a fact even Lady Laniaitte will have no choice to acknowledge!" Emmanellain crossed his arms and smiled in self-congratulation. "Yeeesss, I am rather looking forward to basking in the sunshine of her praise. Speaking of which - isn't it time we made our triumphant return?" (Y/N) said nothing, but the look on her face as she walked past told Haurchefant his future bride most certainly shared his views on the situation. 

Once she was out of earshot, he stormed over to Emmanellain. "By the Fury, what is _wrong_ with you?" His brother blinked in confusion, so he continued, "The only reason you made it out of that mess alive is because the Warrior of _bloody_ Light and I came to save you. As it stands, House Fortemps lost _four_ men in the rescue!"

Emmanellain laughed and clapped Haurchefant's shoulder. "Don't be so cross! Your future bride made it out fine! I'm sure you'll have forgotten all about it by the time you fall asleep beside her."

He could only stare at the boy as he walked away until words suddenly sprang to his tongue, hot and angry. "Some day, Emmanellain, you will be in a position of power, and your carelessness will have consequences for someone who is not _exceptionally_ kind, nor honorbound to see to your safety. I want you to remember this moment, because their reaction to this will most certainly be your deserving for the lackadaisical attitude you take with the lives of those you consider beneath you."

The boy shook his head and kept walking. "You're as stuffy as Father and Artoirel!" he called over his shoulder as they made their way to the Rosehouse.

* * *

"Praise Halone," Laniaitte said as soon as she laid eyes on them. "I feared the worst! What happened out there?"

While (Y/N) recounted their tale, Haurchefant could not help but muse that a significant amount of his lover's time seemed to be occupied by simply _telling people what they missed._ Lady Laniaitte pursed her lips at the mention of the fallen soldiers, but her eyes widened and she interrupted in shock when the Warrior of Light told her of Bismarck.

"A _primal!?"_ she gasped. "Are you sure!?" After a moment Laniaitte paused thoughtfully. "Yet… now that I think on it, this Bismarck is reminiscent of the white whale of Vanu legend - a massive creature said to 'swim' in the Sea of Clouds."

Haurchefant nodded his agreement as he moved to (Y/N)'s side. "From what I have learned of comparable summonings, the presence of the Vanu's god would certainly explain the sudden change in their behavior toward the people of Camp Cloudtop."

Young Honoroit looked up at him. "Ah, you mean to say that they have fallen under the primal's influence? I recall reading of such things in the documents provided by Master Alphinaud…" The boy brought a hand to his chin in thought.

"Aren't we forgetting something important, Lady Laniaitte?" Emmanellain said, an insufferable smirk gracing his features. "A little recognition for the hero of the hour? A few choice expressions of gratitude, respect, admiration, and so on…?" He gave the woman a winsome and expectant smile, that vanished when she turned instead to the Warrior of Light.

"... Why _yes._ You are right, of course," Laniaitte said. "Mistress (L/N) deserves all that and more for having risked her life to rescue such an… esteemed personage."

Emmanellain's face fell but Haurchefant ignored it, instead focusing on the feeling of (Y/N)'s body pressed to his side as he remembered the feeling of being on his knees before her. It made him suddenly curious about some unexplored parts of his sexuality. "Well," he said brusquely. "If there is naught else to discuss, I would depart for Ishgard forthwith. The Holy See and the Temple Knights must be informed of this new threat without delay."

Haillenarte glanced between Haurchefant and (Y/N) and grinned. "But of course," she said. "Mistress (L/N), you have done more than enough here. Pray return to Ishgard with Lord Haurchefant and give my warmest regards to the count."

"So that's it, then?" Emmanellain asked. "No more forays into enemy territory?" He sighed heavily. "Very well, I can see my services are no longer needed. Take Care, Lady Laniaitte. May our next meeting take place under more… felicitous circumstances." Then the youngest Fortemps ran off, followed quickly by Honoroit as the three adults exchanged frustrated expressions.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Count Edmont will have some choice words for him," Haurchefant said to (Y/N) as they headed towards the airship.

"If he doesn't," she replied, "Aymeric _will."_

* * *

"You were _glorious,"_ Haurchefant murmured to (Y/N) between her thighs. "Gods be good, I have never wanted a woman so badly."

(Y/N) let out a frustrated cry and twisted her fingers in his hair. "Don't _tease_ me, Haurchefant."

He chuckled. "Why not, when you tease me so often?"

"I don't tease you, I -" she let out a delicious moan when he lowered his mouth to her and licked slowly between her folds, swirling the tip of his tongue around her entrance before moving up to suck on her clitoris.

"If you want it so badly, then make me," he whispered.

Though her reply was verbal, there were certainly no discernable words because he chose to descend on her again, keeping her on the edge as he had the past few minutes in a hopeful attempt to elicit that same viciousness. With every lick and caress her voice pitched higher until at last she gave him what he was searching for. 

(Y/N) hooked her thighs around him while her fingers pulled his hair and she rolled him bodily onto his back, then settled herself down on his face. "Make me cum," she insisted.

Haurchefant was not one to hesitate. He reached up and grabbed her hips, nibbling and sucking on her clit while she panted wantonly over him. Every time she bucked he pulled her back down to his mouth, eager to give the goddess of his infatuation exactly what she'd demanded. When (Y/N) finally did climax - shaking and gasping over him while her thighs trembled on either side of his head - Greystone was sure that he had entered Halone's halls and eagerly lapped up the ambrosia that was provided. 

A moment later his lover was moving again, crawling backwards over his body until she settled herself on his cock. "(Y/N), I -"

She interrupted him with a firm hand planted on his abdomen. "I'm not done with you, yet," she hissed as her other hand grabbed his, guiding it to the sensitive nub he'd been adoring with his tongue mere moments before. 

Eager to give her what she wanted, Haurchefant rubbed her clit with his thumb as she rode him, enraptured by the sight of the taut muscles moving just beneath her skin. He was sure he was going to go mad with desire, having this woman whom he absolutely adored use him so thoroughly for her own pleasure. "Gods take me," he murmured, lifting his hips to catch hers every time she bucked back down onto him.

"The Gods aren't going to take you, love," she purred, leaning over him to kiss her own flavors off his face. "I am." He was a lost cause at that point, spending himself eagerly inside her as soon as the rough caresses of his thumb threw her over the edge again and she cried his name in pleasure. 

At last she curled in a heap on top of him, trembling slightly with the aftershocks of their shared orgasm while he wrapped his arms around her.

"I think…" he murmured in a desperate effort to fight sleep. "I think we will both require a bath after that."

"Good sex is messy," (Y/N) giggled. "Really good sex is really messy."


	11. Unimpeachable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aymeric learns of recent events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys can thank my DND group for cancelling session today for this chapter.

**Aymeric**

Four men circled the Lord Commander, swords in hand, blocking off any chance of his escape. His own blade was out and he watched them warily, the whole courtyard holding its breath in the cold, predawn light. 

A slight metallic sound behind him warned Aymeric of one of the men approaching, so he met the gaze of the knight directly in front of him, grinned, and turned. As soon as he moved the fight was on in earnest, all four of them converging on him as he dodged, countered, parried, and interspersed strikes of his own. 

Things were going so well, he didn't notice when the thoughts of (Y/N) began to intrude. As the sun rose she dominated more of his mind until his sword clattered to the ground and he wondered, with sickening dread, if this is what that night in Ul'dah had been like for her. Beset on all sides by enemies, no friends to come to her rescue save a teenage boy and a receptionist.

The Temple Knights he had been sparring with paused, and one, Marcelain, lifted his visor. "Lord Commander? Is everything all right?"

"Forgive me," he said, picking up his sword then straightening to his full height as he returned it to its place at his side. "I just had a most unsettling thought. It seems the dawn brings with it an ill wind. That will be all for today."

The soldiers saluted their commander and filed out past Lucia, who stood with her arms crossed. "Haurchefant's here to deliver his report."

* * *

Aymeric put his feet up on his desk and watched Haurchefant as he was escorted in. His steps were lighter, and his expression far less troubled than it had ever been before. None of this surprised the Lord Commander, of course - he'd be hard pressed to focus on his worries with (Y/N) by his side. What _was_ surprising was Haurchefant's willingness to drop formality while Lucia was in the room. Then again, the woman had been stationed at Camp Dragonhead for some time; it was not unreasonable that she and Haurchefant had made a friendship of their own.

"I'll be back with tea," Lucia said, finally, leaving the two alone, and she gave Aymeric a strange, reproving look as she walked out the door. 

He scowled back at her and shrugged. He hadn't the faintest idea why she would be reproaching him when he'd done nothing untoward… unless she feared he was about to. Eyeing Haurchefant, he watched his old friend warily for a moment; sure enough, the tension was thick in his shoulders once they were alone. 

Aymeric licked his lips. "You're about to tell me something I will not like."

"Two somethings, I fear, though unrelated to each other. Would you rather hear the one that will leave you furious with my brother, first? Or the one that will leave you furious with me?" Haurchefant notably had not taken the seat across the desk.

The Lord Commander sighed and glanced askance. "The one that will make me furious with you. Hearing of your brother - I assume Emmanellain, as Artoirel's brand of trouble is usually beneath _my_ notice - and his exploits may help me redirect my temper."

Greystone nodded, then bowed formally. "I must offer you my most sincere apologies, and beg your forgiveness, my friend. I have failed to uphold the vow we made to each other."

It took Aymeric a few moments for the implications of what Haurchefant had said to permeate his mind. Moments the other man seemed to take as the calm before the storm of his temper as he took a step back. But no, the truth was piteously clear. The seemingly innocent and boyish Greystone had _known_ her.

"(Y/N)," Aymeric whispered, but it was the other man who exploded.

"She has made you no such promises of chastity, Aymeric," Haurchefant said, lifting his hands. "Your quarrel is with me, not her, and I will not let you -"

He laughed quietly, letting his feet slip off the desk and rolling into a standing position. "You think I'm furious with her? Even an she were Ishgardian, (Y/N) could fuck every knight and squire in the Holy See and it would not diminish the way she has eclipsed my heart. You are indeed correct she has made no promises of chastity to me - but _you_ have." 

Haurchefant took another step back, but Aymeric felt himself consumed by jealousy, and reached for the dagger inside his outer robe. Lucia would help him hide the body. He'd been secretly wishing and praying for Greystone's death since she left that gardenia - maybe the better part of courage was to do the deed himself, maybe -

_No,_ he realized miserably, _for all my temper, this is not the man I am._

Aymeric sighed and flopped back into his chair. "I will only forgive you on one condition," he said with a voice overburdened by his own displeasure. 

"Name it," his friend replied, finally taking the seat. 

"(Y/N) may do as she likes, but if I ever hear so much as a rumor that you _may_ have taken another lover so long as you have any kind of claim on her, I will kill you for it."

"Duly noted," Haurchefant agreed. "I know it -"

The door opened, and Lucia returned bearing a tray with tea and spiced buns from the kitchens. "I assume you know about this?" Aymeric demanded, interrupting the other man.

Lucia winced. "You said you didn't want to know," she offered lamely.

Aymeric sighed and gestured to Haurchefant. "Give me something else to be miserable about."

"The Vanu have summoned a primal," Haurchefant offered. "We found out when Emmanellain went to go prove himself a hero and ended up captured. (Y/N) went to save him, I heard of the capture and met her there. We managed to extract him safely, but House Fortemps lost four knights."

A knight opened the door and made a motion to Lucia, who mumbled, "Excuse me," and stepped out to see to whatever he needed.

"Go on," Aymeric said, pouring an extra teaspoon of birch syrup into his tea. 

"We ended up cornered on an island in the Sea of Clouds, and the Vanu Elder called out to their god, Bismarck. And it…" he sipped the tea. "Well, it answered."

"How fortunate we are to have a professional primal-slayer in residence," Aymeric quipped and stared into his teacup. He was trying to remain calm but the jealousy was eating him alive. All he could think about was how he longed to bed the Warrior of Light, imagining the sighs that were still only fantasy for himself, but now reality for Haurchefant.

"My lord," Lucia said as she burst back into his office.

"What _now?"_ Aymeric snapped. 

His second set her jaw against the sudden blast of his anger. "Ser Grinnaux has arrested the Warrior of Light's companions, Alphinaud Leveilleur and Tataru Taru on charges of heresy."

* * *

"You will go and inform them of the plan, then," Aymeric was saying as the door to his office opened again. "If Lady (L/N) is unable or unwilling to -"

He froze in place as the woman in question appeared in the small circle that ringed his desk. 

"(Y/N)!" Haurchefant said. "I had but this moment resolved to go and fetch you! I presume you've heard what happened, then…"

Lucia scoffed. "That they should regard the Scions with such suspicion even after you stood with us on the Steps of Faith… it is bad comedy." Aymeric watched as Lucia quickly poured another cup of tea while she spoke, then passed it to (Y/N). "Yet unlike the grave injustice you suffered in Ul'dah, this wrong may swiftly be righted."

Aymeric found his tongue again, at last. "It has been too long, (Y/N)." _It's only been a few days,_ the voice in his head mocked, but he ignored it. "Would that this visit came under happier circumstances. You are come to plead for Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru, I take it?"

(Y/N) nodded and sipped her tea; Aymeric could not help but notice the way Haurchefant instinctively moved to her side while he said, "Word of their detainment reached us while I was delivering my report on the Vanu primal. Truly, I know not which is the more ludicrous - these charges or that flying feathered whale!" 

Throughout Haurchefant's pronouncement, (Y/N)'s eyes had not left him, and Aymeric felt as if he burned beneath her furious gaze. Words tumbled from his mouth before he realized he was speaking. "That Ser Grinnaux's accusations are baseless I have no doubt. Refuting them will be difficult as he is a knight of the Heavens' Ward." 

One of her eyebrows lifted curiously, and it was as though Aymeric's whole world focused in on her lips. Halone help him, he was already considering sneaking the teacup they caressed home like some secretive trophy, so that he might press his own lips against it when he yearned for her. 

Forcing himself to focus, he continued, "I speak of the personal guard of the archbishop - the twelve finest knights in all of Ishgard, sworn to serve His Eminence alone. Suffice to say, their testimony is unimpeachable, and I have not the authority to challenge their actions."

Haurchefant shook his head and said bitterly, "After all the Scions have done - routing the heretics and defeating Shiva, helping us defend the Steps of Faith and drive back the Dravanian Horde - after _proving_ themselves true allies on countless occasions, is there naught we can do!?"

"I fear there is but one path left to us…" Aymeric said. "We must demand trial by combat."

"But of course!" Haurchefant said, then turned to (Y/N), who still had yet to take her eyes from Aymeric. "In a trial by combat sanctioned by the inquisition, the victor's claim is judged true regardless of the petitioner's standing."

"Under Ishgardian law, a trial by combat pits the accuser against the accused." Why did her unwavering stare affect him so? "In this instance, Master Alphinaud and Mistress tataru would be expected to face Ser Grinnaux and a second of his choosing - another knight of the Heavens' Ward, most like."

_"Two_ of them!?" Haurchefant muttered a curse under his breath. "By the Fury, that can hardly be considered fair…"

Aymeric raised a hand to interrupt his friend. "Master Alphinaud's magical talents will not have gone unnoticed, meaning that he will have no choice but to participate. Mistress Tataru, on the other hand, is quite obviously bereft of martial skill, and should be afforded the right to name a champion to fight in her stead." 

_Tell me what you want,_ he yearned to beg her. (Y/N)'s silence through this conversation was just as maddening as the faint scent of her gardenia perfume, reminding him of the potted plant in Borel manor he'd taken to checking obsessively every morning and evening and all that it might one day mean. But as usual, the woman was inscrutable, so he continued. "Lest you doubt, I am ready and willing to serve in this capacity -" the other man made a strangled noise, "- as I am sure is Lord Haurchefant, but all here present know you are the most accomplished warrior among us, and _mayhap_ in the realm at large…"

Haurchefant clapped his hands together. "Then it is settled! I will visit Master Alphinaud at once, and inform him of our intentions. (Y/N) - meet me at the tribunal when you have made ready." He leaned down and kissed her, and Aymeric felt pain shoot up his arm at how tightly he clenched the steel teacup. He reminded himself to thank Lucia for not bringing the porcelain today. He would have shattered it.

Greystone did not seem to notice his distress, but said, "Until then, my dear!" and bid her adieu.

After the door shut behind him, (Y/N) strode closer to the desk and refilled her tea, adding her own healthy serving of birch syrup. She took a seat on his desk, and he couldn't help but notice the curves of her body in her posture.

"Well," Lucia said abruptly. "I'm going to go see to other matters since I assume you'll want to attend, my lord." She nearly ran from the chamber, leaving the two of them alone.

(Y/N) took a long sip of her tea.

"The trial will be held at the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine," Aymeric said. "I will be in attendance, as will many others with a vested interest in the outcome. Stint not in your preparations, my friend. The knights of the Heavens' Ward will provide a stern test for even one such as you."

She nodded and continued to sip her tea, staring at him as the minutes stretched on and he languished under the phantoms of her expectation. He finally broke, and asked, "Is there any way I can assist you in this endeavor? Please, I beg you, name it. I so greatly desire to be of some use to you, (Y/N)."

At last she lowered the cup from her lips and set it on his desk. "I was hoping you might let me raid your armory."

* * *

"It might -" Aymeric began as she stalked between the racks of weapons, eyeing them. Her quick pace forced him to half-jog to keep up until he finally reached out and took her hand. (Y/N) stopped instantly. "It might be easier if you told me what you were looking for, my lady."

She turned but did not release him, instead shifting her hand so their fingers laced together. "I'm sorry," she said abruptly. "I'm not in the best of moods today."

"I heard what happened," he said, "with Emmanellain."

"It's not that it's -" (Y/N) looked away, staring at the ground. "I wish I was not what I am."

The familiarity of the statement rooted him to the spot, but he remained silent to let her continue. "You said, earlier, that I am 'the most accomplished warrior among us, and mayhap in the realm at large.'" (Y/N)'s dark laugh returned and he released her hand, moving instead to pull her close while she kept speaking. "I will save my friends because that is what friends do; because that is what I _alone_ can do. But I could never tell anyone that I hate that this is what is asked of me. I wish I could…" 

She trembled against his chest in the darkness. "I wish I could take a break from saving everyone, and just once someone would save _me."_

"You know that I would gladly give my life for yours," he whispered.

(Y/N) shook her head. "I don't want someone to die for me - I want someone to live for me, instead."

Aymeric could not help himself any longer. He bent and kissed her, savoring the way the saltiness of her tears mingled with the sweet flavor of birch syrup that still lingered on her tongue from the tea. After a few moments she pulled away with a tremulous little gasp that ignited his heart and mind. "You know that I love you," he spoke into the space between their lips. It wasn't a question. 

"I…" (Y/N) looked up into his eyes, tearing him apart as she had in his office. "I need a sword."

He sensed the end of their moment in those words and closed his eyes, pulling away. "We have some longswords and bastard swords, If I recall. The Temple Knights generally only give shortswords to squires."

"A zweihander," she said, "or something of similar size."

"I'd offer my own," he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "But it is nearly as long as you are tall."

"That sounds about perfect," (Y/N) responded, and one corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

"Then my sword is yours, my lady." Aymeric unstrapped it from his hip and offered it to her. "Now and always."

The Warrior of light took the blade and to his surprise, took it through a few quick forms that belied _far_ more experience than he expected her to have. By the time she returned to the starting position, her smile was back in full force, and she winked. "I'll have to remember you know how to handle things this size."

Her flirtation left him momentarily speechless again, so instead of flirting back he blurted, "I'm sorry."

"For what, Aymeric?" (Y/N) asked, and he savored the sound of his name in her voice.

"For not being there for you, at the banquet."

"What could you have done? Swoop in and save the Scions and I?" She shook her head. "No, you would have just ended up dead or missing like the rest of them, and I couldn't bear that."

Something in (Y/N)'s voice, the raw honesty at admitting she would not see him dead, pulled him right back in and he pinned her to the stone wall, his mouth on hers as hungry as he'd ever been. 

His sword hung in her grip between their bodies, and some distant part of his mind was grateful for it, because he did not believe he would have been able to stop himself from trying his damnedest to have her there amid the weapon racks if not for the visceral reminder of the more important duties that awaited them both. 

A bell rang in the distance, bringing him back to the present, remembering the trial for her friends would start soon, and he tore his mouth away and stared at her. 

One of her hands shook as it lifted to her lips, and she looked up at him in shock. "I…" She swallowed. "I have to go."

Then (Y/N) bolted from the Armory.


	12. Naegling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphinaud and Tataru's Trial by Combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter was like pulling teeth! Hopefully they'll come easier after this.

**Haurchefant**

His heart leapt when (Y/N) entered the Tribunal, but quickly sank again when he saw the look on her face. She was pale, and kept fiddling with her bow as if she could not find a comfortable place for it on her back. 

Haurchefant cautiously approached her, trying to decide what to say, but she cut to the chase. "Aymeric kissed me."

He chuckled. "Took him long enough."

She scowled. "I'm not comfortable with this anymore, Haurchefant. Look, I…" (Y/N) sighed and looked up at him. "Either I'm with _you,_ or I'm not. I understand your internal sense of honor demanded Aymeric get his chance, but he's too hung up on waiting for permission. Every time I remotely flirt with him he locks up like rusted clockwork."

"That's not his fault," he interjected. "Probably his own _'internal sense of honor'_, truth be told. You and I are together, and that means he shouldn't do anything like that with you. It probably took everything in him to rationalize kissing you."

"Bully for him," she said. "But I don't _want_ to be kissing him. He's handsome, yes. Kind, of course. Devoted, to a fault; but I'm not unobservant - I know I couldn't have any kind of future with him. He's too twisted up in proper Ishgardian custom."

"And I'm not?" Haurchefant teased.

"That's different. You've made yourself an out. You made yourself an out so you could be with me." (Y/N) pressed her forehead against his chest. "Can I stop giving him a chance now?"

"Of course," he said. "But don't be hard on him, hmm? He and I have an agreement."

"Agreement?" She raised an eyebrow dubiously.

Chuckling again, he said, "The world can be hard for bastard's widows. If anything should happen to one of us, we agreed to look after the other's widow. So if something should happen to me -"

"Don't say that." Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes. "Don't even joke that you might die. It's bad luck."

Haurchefant rolled his eyes at the Eorzean superstition. "Just in case - he is honorbound to care for you. Thus I pray that you will be gentle with him, at least until he finds some wife of his own."

"So forever," she said. "That man is married to his job."

He shrugged, unable to refute her. "Regardless."

"All right. So long as we can focus on us now," (Y/N) capitulated. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and he bent down, giving her as intimate a kiss as he dared in such a place. When she settled back on her feet, she asked, "What should I expect in there?"

"Listen carefully, (Y/N)..." he began.

* * *

Haurchefant heard familiar steps and glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Aymeric take the space beside him. "Where is she?" the man asked.

"Waiting. I thought it better to ensure Grinnaux has no reason to object to Mistress Taru naming a champion, which he may if he sees a habitual primal slayer within arm's reach," he replied. 

The Lord Commander shifted uncomfortably, but said, "I would have loved to have heard his argument as to why she should fight for herself."

The men exchanged a glance and both chuckled. Ser Grinnaux was not known for his oratory.

After the laugh, Aymeric seemed to unbend a little. "I must beg your forgiveness, I fear."

"This promises to be quite entertaining," Haurchefant replied, smirking at his friend. "Go on then."

"While I was showing (Y/N) the Temple Knights' Armory, I was… overcome." The Lord Commander swallowed. "I may have kissed her."

"May have?" Greystone asked, then laughed. "(Y/N) was much more sure of it when she told me about it."

"Oh," was all Aymeric managed to say for a few minutes. Finally, he heaved a sigh and added, "I am sorry. I find it hard to ignore my feelings."

"So do I, how else do you think I found myself mired in this mess?" Haurchefant teased. "I'm not angry. I'm glad you told me; I don't hold your attraction to her against you and I much prefer us being good enough friends that you can confess it than try to keep it secret."

"You will… take care of her, won't you?" Borel's voice was miserable.

"Until the day I die," he agreed.

Aymeric opened his mouth like he was going to say something more, but the High Adjudicator stood and raised his arms, calling the room to attention. "We are gathered here today, under the watchful gaze of the Fury, to ascertain the guilt of two souls in a trial by combat! Petitioners, step forward! Ser Grinnaux - for the benefit of all here present, I would ask you to repeat the charges which you have leveled against this man and this woman."

Grinnaux stepped forward and lifted his chin, a bored expression on his face. "I, Ser Grinnaux de Dzemael, brother of the Heavens' Ward, did bear witness to these two foreigners consorting with heretics!"

The High Adjudicator nodded in acceptance and turned to (Y/N)'s friends. "Let the accused step forward!" From his place in the stands, Haurchefant could see Alphinaud and Tataru share a nervous glance before the High Adjudicator continued. "Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tataru Taru - you have heard the charges leveled against you. Will you take up arms to refute Ser Grinnaux's claim and thereby prove your innocence in the eyes of gods and men?"

The boy took a deep breath and stepped forward. "I, Alphinaud Leveilleur, am innocent of this charge, and claim my right to trial by combat!"

Beside him, the Lalafell trembled. "I, Tataru Taru, am innocent of this charge… But I am no warrior, and cannot fight." She made a little squeak as if the very idea of combat terrified her. "... So I claim the right to name a champion!"

The High Adjudicator looked down his nose at her for a moment. "To the old and the infirm, the young and the weak, this right we allow. Very well. Who will stand for this woman?"

Ser Grinnaux cast his eyes towards the audience, catching on Haurchefant and Aymeric. It was obvious he expected one of them to step forward, and Greystone had to appreciate the abrupt shock in his expression when a side door creaked open to admit the Warrior of Light.

His intended was breathtaking in her armor, her bow strapped across her back, and the sight of her made Haurchefant let out an appreciative sigh. Beside him, Aymeric made a vague noise of confusion, and mumbled something about a sword before the High Adjudicator nodded and said the ritual prayer: "O Halone, render unto us Your judgement! Raise up the righteous, and cast down the wicked!"

In unison borne of a lifetime of piety, both of them lowered their heads. "Halone be praised."

When Haurchefant lifted his head again, (Y/N) was in the arena, bow drawn, and a single arrow nocked in preparation. Beside her, Alphinaud released his tome where it had been strapped to his hip and opened it. "I shall do what I can to support you, (Y/N)!" the boy said. "Now, let us teach these noble sers the folly of bearing false witness!"

Aymeric made an irritated noise, and Haurchefant had to agree - it was one thing to imply the Heavens' Ward were mistaken - quite another to declare they were _lying._ Someone would have to explain to the boy that Eorzean etiquette was not Ishgardian.

Grinnaux's second, Ser Paulecrain, pulled his polearm from his back and smirked at the (R/N). "Well, well, who do we have here?" he asked before he leveled the tip of his weapon at her. "This one is mine, Ser Grinnaux. Go and play with the boy."

(Y/N) lifted her bow and Grinnaux scoffed. "Hmph. Bloody waste of…" He turned to Alphinaud and drew his axe. "Come on, then! You wanted this, remember!?"

Then all at once, the battle was joined. Both (Y/N) and Alphinaud led the knights on a merry chase about the enclosure, keeping ever out of the reach of their weapons while firing arrows and spells. Haurchefant quickly approached the grille to get a better view of the fight, and he felt Aymeric come to his side. "Oh, Halone…" the Lord Commander whispered as he threaded his fingers between the iron bars as if he could somehow rip the whole grate from its stone moorings and join the fray. "What a woman you have raised up."

It was Dzemael who lost his temper first and cried, "I've had enough of your tricks!" before he bolted towards the boy.

"(Y/N)!" Tataru shouted, "Alphinaud's in trouble!"

The Warrior of Light swung her head around just in time to see Grinnaux bring his axe to bear on the boy, and Paulecrain laughed. "Ha! A fine champion you are!" he mocked, but she was already moving, and Haurchefant's own hands clutched the bars as he watched a small crystal glimmer in her hand before (Y/N) was wrapped in blinding aether.

A loud discordant _CLANG!_ echoed off the walls, making the crowd cry out - yet, even over all that, he could hear Aymeric's quiet gasp by his side as the aether faded and (Y/N) stood between Alphinaud and Grinnaux, her leather armor traded for steel and Naegling in her hands, holding fast against the knight's axe. 

Haurchefant's mouth went dry at the sight. She couldn't possibly know the implications - named swords like Aymeric's were not common, nor were they just handed out like party favors. They were ancestral, tied either to a role, like the weapons of the Heavens' Ward, or to a house, such as Naegling, the ancestral weapon of House Borel. But to put that weapon in the hands of someone to whom it would normally never have passed, _especially_ a woman, implied an intimacy that (Y/N) and Aymeric did not share.

_Yet,_ the traitor in Haurchefant's mind whispered, and Greystone couldn't help but let his eyes shift to his side, and he saw the way Aymeric looked at her. He remembered (Y/N) had not asked for _his_ sword. And the Lord Commander was smitten - obsessed, even. He had money, position, and power - and suddenly Haurchefant realized that by confessing his fornication with (Y/N) to Aymeric, he had changed the rules of the contest. 

'Twas Haurchefant himself who had placed betrayal on the table, and he was suddenly aware of how much better Aymeric de Borel was at it than he was.

"You gave her Naegling," he said, quietly.

The Lord Commander stilled and tilted his head slightly toward Haurchefant. All he could see was the razor sharp edges of his friend - his teeth, his smile, his eyes, his ears. "I did," Aymeric said, and the frozen fury in his gaze said it was exactly the challenge Haurchefant was taking it for.

* * *

**Aymeric**

Haurchefant had nearly bolted from the Tribunal the moment (Y/N)'s victory had been declared, so Aymeric himself strolled down to congratulate her himself. She was in a small antechamber with Alphinaud and Tataru while the High Adjudicator spoke to the Heavens' Ward.

As an attendant let him in, he heard Alphinaud say, "Delivered from an untimely demise yet again. My thanks… as always."

(Y/N) smiled down at the boy and ruffled his hair, causing him to make a scoffing noise and rearrange it while Tataru giggled. 

"Forgive the intrusion, my lady," Aymeric interjected, and the Warrior of Light's attention turned to him at last. _Halone,_ but her gaze could shatter his resolve and inflict emotions in an instant. The grateful smile she bestowed on him made this entire incident well worth all the trouble it had and would cause with Haurchefant. 

"Lord Aymeric!" Tataru hopped from her seat and ran to his side. "I must express my sincere gratitude for lending our dear friend your blade in our hour of need!"

"Please," he replied, "Think nothing of it, Mistress Taru. I had not had the pleasure of watching Lady (L/N) fight before, and now I know why they say she is indeed Halone in the flesh. It is my greatest honor to have been permitted to play some small part in such a display of her skill."

"I am surprised Lord Haurchefant is not here to congratulate her as well," Alphinaud said, his blasé air failing miserably to hide the comment for what it was - a reminder of her entanglement with the other man.

Initially, Aymeric thought the comment a jab at him, but to his surprise it was (Y/N)'s cheeks that colored and she pulled Naegling from her back . "Right. Forgive me. I nearly forgot that I need to return this to you."

Though he'd never admit it, he had forgotten as well. The blade looked natural on her back and in her hands, like it belonged more with her than him. Still, if letting her borrow it had been enough to start this quiet war with Haurchefant, letting her _keep_ it would start a war with half the city. So instead of following the most secret yearnings of his heart - to press the blade into her hands and insist she keep this token of all he was so that she might have a physical reminder of how some part of him travelled with her always - Aymeric took Naegling back and sheathed it at his side. "My thanks, my lady. I pray that I will have the opportunity to put this blade into your hands again anon - or mayhaps the hands of your son."

The last addendum had not been intentional, and it seemed before his arrival the boy had explained the significance of such blades to her because her eyes widened and her cheeks colored. (Y/N)'s mouth worked as she seemed to be gathering her wits to reply, and Aymeric heard the choked noise Alphinaud made beside her, but it was Tataru who said into that pregnant silence, "Well. Alphinaud. I, for one, am tired of being confined to cramped cells and windowless rooms. Let's go for a walk through the corridors at least."

"Yes, of course," the boy replied, and though Aymeric heard their words and their steps and the creak of the door as it opened and shut, he was too interested in what response (Y/N) would make to such a blatant declaration that he wished to get children on her.

Of course she was far too crafty to be pinned so easily. "I am glad you enjoyed the demonstration of my skill. I admit, I favor the bow, but I have been working at the sword in recent weeks and wished to test myself."

"Recent _weeks?"_ he laughed, allowing the subject to drift. There would be time. For now he was pleased to have his intentions out in the open. "It usually takes decades to reach the exquisite perfection you exhibited today."

(Y/N) shrugged. "I am the Warrior of Light."

"Regardless, I am delighted to have witnessed it. You were absolutely magnificent. My only regret is that I did not go out of my way to see such demonstrations before now." 

"I just wish there were fewer of them, or better yet, none at all," she replied, leaning against the table.  
Aymeric heard the dissatisfaction in her voice and frowned, moving to lean against the table at her side. "Could I prevail upon you to elaborate, my lady?"

She looked up at him for a moment, then looked away. "It is… _exhausting,_ in truth, to be constantly forcing the world to do the right thing through violence. I'm not even asking people to change huge parts of their culture! Just… stop _hurting_ people, you know?" Her voice cracked, and his arm went around her the same moment she turned and buried her face in his shoulder. "I just want to have normal concerns - marriage, children, a family - but those things are not… _because_ of who I am I can't…"

He realized, belatedly, she was trying to explain why she couldn't give him what he had been asking for. "Haurchefant seems quite eager to give you those things." Perhaps he was the petulant child his father had called him on the few occasions they had spoken outside of their roles as Archbishop and Lord Commander.

"He is," (Y/N) agreed. "But Haurchefant…" She paused and the silence stretched around them - around them, thank Halone, for Aymeric would permit nothing to come between. "He seems more enraptured of me as a warrior - and often seems to forget that I'm a woman, too."

"Oh, of that fact I am certain he is _quite_ aware," Aymeric hissed. "As am I. 'Tis the source of our troubles where you are concerned, my lady."

"I trouble you, do I?" Her voice was playful, but then her tentative smile fell again as she pulled away. "Aymeric, I need to tell you - I can't be what you want me to be to you. I'm the Warrior of Light, and that means I don't have the luxury to be properly courted and wooed, no matter how much I dream of it."

"You dream of it?" Even though she was rejecting him, he couldn't separate the yearning from his voice. 

"I do." It was then that he noticed her hands - the way she seemed to reach toward him at the same time she held herself back. "But I can't have it. That dream is just one more that must be sacrificed for the people of Eorzea. It won't be the first, and I fear it won't be the last."

Aymeric took a step toward her again, hoping to close the distance she seemed so eager to create; especially now that he knew it was a distance she did not want in truth. "(Y/N), I -"

The door creaked open and a page boy entered, bowing politely. "Lord Commander."

"What?" he growled.

The child bowed before his temper, but did not break. "His Eminence sends word that he would have word with you at your earliest convenience."

"Earliest Convenience," of course, was his father's polite way of saying "Now." Aymeric sighed. "My lady, I am truly sorry for this interruption, but I must attend the Archbishop. It is my dearest wish that we can continue this conversation again soon. I… I feel we have much to discuss."

"No," (Y/N) shook her head, and the emotional vulnerability he had seen on her face a moment before was gone, replaced by the mask of stoicism that seemed more in keeping with the public perception of her. "I have already said all that is productive to say, and more besides."

Making a dismissive noise of irritation in his throat, Aymeric turned and followed the page boy.

* * *

**Haurchefant**

_Naegling._ Aymeric de _fucking_ Borel had lent (Y/N) Naegling, which was practically a formal declaration of his intentions to marry her in the Vault before Halone and the Archbisop and all the saints besides. The only way he could counter this was to make his own public admission of his intentions. If Aymeric wanted this war, he could have it, and the whole of Ishgard could watch the mummery. Haurchefant was just glad he'd already been working on an appropriate gift for some time.

He had thought long and hard about what he had once discussed with his friend - in truth, even through this, he considered Aymeric his _friend_ \- about proper gifts for a woman like (Y/N). She was the Warrior of Light, and he knew the truth of what their marriage would be - short stints in Ishgard between their travels. He would leave the city and follow her to the ends of the earth, wherever her adventures took her. For all the talk about her 'staying forever,' he was not the kind of fool who believed that could ever be real. What ostentatious gift do you give someone who travels constantly? 

A steed that you would trust with your life.


	13. Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light meets Archbishop Thordan VII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, I hope you guys like this! I've been working on a lot of original fiction lately, still deciding what I want to do with that!

**Aymeric**

"Tell me, what are your impressions of this 'Warrior of Light?'" Archbishop Thordan VII's voice echoed off the marble that made up the Vault as he focused on Aymeric. This was one of those moments when the Lord Commander wished his relationship with his father was more like that between Count Edmont and Haurchefant - mayhap if there were more warmth between them, he would have felt more comfortable answering.

"She is a most skilled warrior, Your Eminence," he began, glancing sidelong at Ser Zephirin where he lingered near the dais. "If even half of her rumored exploits are true, Lady (Y/N)'s legend will linger long after she is called to Halone's halls."

_"Lady_ (Y/N)?" Thordan's voice emphasized the title. "I was not aware that she was of noble birth."

"Forgive me," he said, offering a half-bow. "She has been taken in as a ward of Count Edmont de Fortemps, and given her victory over Iceheart, I had hoped to merely convey the depth of my affec - _respect,"_ Aymeric corrected hastily, "for her."

The Archbishop paused a moment, a subtle implication that he had picked up what the Lord Commander had been attempting to avoid saying. "Respect…" he nodded slowly. "I have heard you lent her Naegling for the trial, and she put it to good use against two knights of the Heavens' Ward. I wonder, just how far does that 'respect' extend, Lord Commander?"

A titter ran through the room, and Aymeric was forced to clench his teeth for a handful of heartbeats to keep excuses from bursting forth. He was more than used to the ridicule of his father's retinue - both the knights of the Heavens' Ward and the flock of functionaries that swirled around them. To say something now would only confirm their suspicions, and Halone help him, he should have _known_ the Archbishop would have heard of her using Naegling already. The only thing that moved faster than the chill winds in this city was gossip.

At last in control of himself, he said, "I wished to convey my support for the accused; as I thought it inappropriate for me to offer myself as champion for Mistress Taru, I felt lending her chosen champion the sword of House Borel was the next best thing."

A few of the knights began to laugh, but to Aymeric's surprise his father held up a hand, and the room fell back into silence. "May I speak plainly, my son?"

The Archbishop rarely acknowledged their kinship publicly - that he did so now filled Aymeric with unease. "Of course, Father," he replied, nonetheless. Etiquette had its demands.

"I have heard that both you and Haurchefant Greystone are enamored of the woman. Though normally I would say she is an outsider and unacceptable, as you have said yourself - if even half her rumored exploits are true, we must ensure she is loyal to Ishgard." 

Aymeric frowned. "Wait, what are you saying?"

His father chuckled. "I am saying I do not care whom she marries in this city, so long as she marries someone. You, Haurchefant, Zephirin -" He gestured towards the Heavens' Ward who took a startled step back. "Whomever manages to win her hand will have my blessing."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry to say the lady has already refused me."

"Are you my son, or not?"

* * *

**Haurchefant**

"Oh, love, she's _precious,"_ (Y/N) cooed, wrapping her arms around the chocobo's neck and burying her face in the glossy black feathers. He'd been thrown out of the Tribunal but she ran up to him outside, fawning attention on the black chocobo he had gifted her. "How can I ever repay you?"

Haurchefant laughed. "We're lovers, my dear. Seeing your delight is more than payment enough… but if you're offering, I have a few -"

As usual, the Warrior of Light caught him off guard; one moment she had eyes only for the chocobo, the next her fingers had slipped beneath his collar and she tugged him down for a kiss. "I'm sure you do," she murmured into his lips. "But perhaps save them until after we get back to Fortemps Manor? I don't think you want half the city to know the things we'll be doing."

"Half the city knowing is half the _fun,"_ he teased, and she smacked his arm playfully. "Come, let me take you home on your new steed and show you the commands she's been taught."

"I think I'd like that," (Y/N) whispered, and she watched him mount up with an intense warmth in her eyes that made him forget all about Aymeric's display, especially once he took her hand and pulled her up onto the saddle before him. 

Haurchefant smiled into her hair and wrapped his arms around her, taking up the reins. "I love you."

"And I love you," she replied, placing a hand over one of his.

A slight squeeze of his hips had the chocobo racing through the streets toward an overlook and he leaned down so his mouth was beside her ear. "Hold on."

* * *

The moment they stepped through the doors of Fortemps Manor, Haurchefant's family crowded around them, eager to discuss the day's events. 

"I was not present at the trial," Artoirel said, smiling fondly at (Y/N), "but my father told me of your performance. He said you were a _wonder_ to behold!"

"Are you trying to become the talk of the city? Because if you are, you're doing an admirable job of it!" Emmanellain enthused as he thumped Haurchefant on the back. "What a sister you have found for us!"

Beside him, Honoroit looked up at (Y/N) for a moment, then bowed. "It brings me joy to see you in good health, Mistress (L/N)."

Finally, Haurchefant's father stood, motioning the others to give them space so they could stop crowding the entryway. "Halone smiles on us yet again, Mistress (L/N), guiding you to victory and setting your comrades free." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I saw that you were using House Borel's swo-"

"I didn't know," she interrupted, looking down at her feet. "I didn't know the implication of accepting, just that I needed a sword and it was a good one. I've already returned it to him."

Edmont chuckled. "I take it by your rather _vehement_ response that you do not return Lord Aymeric's affections?"

"Not the way he wants me to."

"But you do return Haurchefant's." 

It was a statement, not a question, and (Y/N)'s cheeks flushed as she said, "Much to my dismay."

For half-a-heartbeat, Haurchefant feared her meaning, but her impish smile won out and he realized she was joking, and soon his family was overcome by relieved laughter. It was as if all the stress of the trial and the surrounding events melted away. 

Artoirel brought (Y/N) a glass of brandy. "I confess, I did fear for your safety. Which is not to say I doubted your prowess, you understand… I merely knew the strength of your opponents." He coughed softly. "You do have a habit of exceeding my expectations."

Emmanellain poured his own glass a little _too_ full, but quickly swallowed his error before adding, "Besting two of the Heavens' Ward while the city's elite looked on? By the Fury, anyone who hasn't been paying attention to you will surely do so from now on!"

The Count nodded and took a seat on a small couch, gesturing for (Y/N) to sit across from him. "Which is why I fear we should have this discussion now, before more attention is drawn to you."

She looked quizzically between Haurchefant and his father, but Greystone just shrugged. "I've not the faintest idea what he wishes to discuss."

"You strike me as a woman who prefers not to dither," Edmont said, sipping his drink and eyeing (Y/N).

"I find it saves an immense amount of time," she agreed.

"Then let us dispense with the usual small talk and speak plainly - now that you have shown yourself a force to be reckoned with, every noble house in Ishgard will be moving to gain your allegiance. I'm not unaware of the Lord Commander's feelings toward you, and lords have married for far less than a strong sword arm. Your ability to best two of the Heavens' Ward with a barely capable boy at your side is a more powerful political asset than you realize, granting near-immunity from any number of crimes."

"You're saying men from all over this city are about to call on me."

"Unless you are already spoken for," Count de Fortemps clarified, and tilted his head toward Haurchefant.

"Wait, Father," Haurchefant said abruptly. "I thought you wanted to wait until -"

Edmont raised a hand to interrupt him. "The situation has changed. Especially given the Lord Commander's interest, we should -"

The door from the Servant's Quarters opened, and Firmien came in, somewhat breathless. "M-My Lord! We have just received a message from the Vault. His Eminence the archbishop requests the presence of Mistress (L/N)."

Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he half-choked on brandy, Emmanellain said, "An invitation from the archbishop!?"

"What an honor…" Artoirel said, and glanced pointedly at his father.

"A personal summons is indeed a great honor, and given recent events, you would be wise not to delay…" the Count muttered. "Go, Mistress (L/N). We shall speak anon."

(Y/N) touched Haurchefant's hand for a moment before she stood, a look of consternation on her face.

"Do not worry about Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru. We will tend to them when they return from the Tribunal," Edmont said, waving her on, and she followed Firmien outside. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them, the Count said, "I do not doubt that his Eminence is about to have much the same conversation with her in regards to his own son."

Artoirel sucked in a sharp breath - the fact that Aymeric was the Archbishop's bastard was well known, but rarely spoken of. 

"What do I do?" Haurchefant asked. He was no fool in this, and knew that Archbishop Thordan's power was considerable in this regard. His Eminence could simply order the marriage, or order her thrown out of the city for refusing - though he also knew Aymeric would not accept her hand in such a situation. The Lord Commander wanted her affection more than he wanted the political asset.

"You?" Edmont frowned in thought. "You will go to the Crozier with Firmien the moment he returns, select a proper ring, and ask the lady for her hand by sunset. I will have some words with the household knights and then go see Count de Haillenarte. There is much to do."

"That quickly?" Emmanellain blinked. "She's only just come to the city a week ago."

"Yes, that quickly," Edmont said. "This snowy city moves slowly in most things, but the slightest discordant noise can cause an avalanche. There is _nothing_ slight about the discord (Y/N) brings."

* * *

**Aymeric**

The door opened to admit (Y/N), already threading her fingers into her hair to shake the snow out as she stepped through. 

Aymeric stood from where he was leaning against the wall and took the other - still cold from her time outside, and kissed her knuckle. "Thank you for coming, my lady."

"Please," she said, shaking her head. "I would not want to seem rude."

The attendant excused himself to go see if they were ready to receive her, and the moment they were alone he moved to kiss her properly, only for (Y/N) to turn her face away. 

"(Y/N)," he pleaded, "My father has said -" 

She shook her head. "The Archbishop's messenger interrupted Haurchefant and I discussing our marriage with Edmont."

He felt like he was falling, his stomach flying up into his chest, and he prayed to Halone that at any moment he might crash down to the marble floor and awake in his bed to see this was just a wretched nightmare. But no, the Fury was not known for _kindness._ He could do naught but stare at her, broken-hearted and dumbstruck until the attendant returned, and beckoned for them to follow.

They passed through the marble corridors heading toward the throne room and Aymeric found himself taking great comfort from something his grandfather always liked to say: "Nothing's final until you're in the Vault." And he would be damned if he ever let Haurchefant Greystone bring her _here._

At the steward's direction, (Y/N) hung back while Aymeric entered to announce her, a strange surety settling into his bones. Plenty of noblewomen stepped out on their husbands - half the children in Ishgard looked nothing like their supposed fathers. He would find a way to have her heart, even if she married Haurchefant. He was the Archbishop's son, by the _Fury,_ and he had never asked anything of his father, too afraid of his disapproval. What could Thordan even do that would be worse than never tasting her lips again?

Something of his black mood must have sounded in his steps across the floor of the great chamber, because the knights and functionaries attending on his father fell to silence, and his words echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Your Eminence, it is my honor to present to you the Warrior of Light."

(Y/N) seemed transfigured as she stepped through the large doors at the far end of the chamber, looking for all the world like a hero of legend as she approached. She could have been a statue of a saint when she at last came to rest, refusing to bend or bow. 

One of the priests near the throne opened his mouth to speak, but the Archbishop cut him off. "I have heard tales of your many grand endeavors. The lord commander has been most… _effusive_ in his praise." Around the room a few of the dignitaries tittered, and to Aymeric's immense relief, (Y/N) smiled. 

"I am Thordan VII, Archbishop of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, and I bade you come here that I might offer my personal apologies. You will forgive me for not calling upon you as courtesy would dictate, but as you can see, my more spritely days are long behind me." Both (Y/N) and his father chuckled at that, and she relaxed at last. "But, I digress. Your companions were wrongly accused of heresy and subjected to gross indignities. This, I am sorry to say, was the result of negligence on the part of our nation's protectors - negligence born of an excess of zeal." The archbishop's gaze turned cold as it fell on the Heavens' Ward standing at the foot of the dais. "Is that not so, Ser Zephirin?"

"Yes, Your Eminence…" Zephirin said, bowing formally to (Y/N). "Regrettably, it would appear that we of the Heavens' Ward were in receipt of erroneous information. Ser Grinnaux has ever been headstrong. He pressed charges before the truth had been ascertained, for which I most sincerely apologize."

Though (Y/N) still did not bow, she nodded her head in acknowledgement of Zephirin's apology.

If he did not know better, Aymeric would have believed his father actually _enjoyed_ seeing the Warrior of Light refuse to pay obeisance in the Ishgardian style. No, it was more likely that he was willing to overlook the disrespect in favor of ensuring she looked favorably on the Ishgardian establishment. He certainly seemed to be heaping on the praise as he said, "An unfortunate misunderstanding born of an earnest desire to serve Ishgard - but one which should never have occurred… For who could doubt the character of those who bested Shiva and drove the Horde from the Steps of Faith? Not I, that much is certain."

Then shock upon shocks, the Archbishop turned back to the knight again. "That will be all, Ser Zephirin. I would speak with our guest in private."

The Heavens' Ward startled at the request. "Your Eminence? I -" The look that passed between them must have been scathing because Zephirin immediately capitulated. "As you wish, Your Eminence. That will be all for today!"

Thus Aymeric found himself leaving (Y/N) alone with his father in the throne room, though he did catch sight of her once more as the doors slid shut, her head turned to the side, watching him until they closed.

* * *

(Y/N)'s hand slipped into the crook of his elbow, making him jump in surprise. "Oh! My lady. I had not realized your audience was over."

"It's fine," she said, and her smile did not reach her eyes. "Walk me back to Fortemps Manor?"

"Of course," he said, leading her outside. The cold was bracing, and she instantly shrank against his side, making him laugh. "Do you not own a proper coat, (Y/N)?"

She shrugged. "Up until recently, I lived in Ul'dah." Her face fell even further at the mention, and he placed his free hand over hers in comfort.

"It is far warmer there, I will concede." He chuckled to lighten the mood. "I shall have to gift you some proper clothing for our Ishgardian winters. As much as I enjoy having you close, knowing you are comfortable is much preferable."

"I'm going to marry Haurchefant," she said, holding the statement up like a shield to ward him off.

"I know."

She blinked then looked up at him in confusion. "But you're still flirting with me."

"Does it offend you?" Aymeric asked. "Your marital status does little to abate my ardor for you, and if all I can have are these flirtations, then so be it."

"Something tells me you will not be content with flirtation forever," she mused, but her hand in his arm squeezed just a little tighter as she smiled.

"Perhaps not," he confessed. "But I am content to wait. Once I have a few gardenia blossoms to present you with, perhaps we can revisit the issue."

"Haurchefant and I will be married by then."

"And if so, then I will give my happiest blessings to you both," he lied. "But if not, I am sure you will be tired of waiting."

(Y/N) snorted. "If I'm even still in Ishgard."

"Even if you've left, I think you will return."

"For what?"

"For me," he said, and came to a stop just outside Fortemps Manor. "You've said you long to be courted - and one day, I will court you."

"We'll see."

Aymeric bowed. "We shall indeed, my lady." He pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Until next time."

* * *

**Haurchefant**

When (Y/N) finally approached, she was already giggling, and put a hand on his arm. "Haurchefant, please. Come inside. We can discuss this in the parlor, or -"

"No, please. I've been practicing," he admitted. "Let me just get this out."

(Y/N) laughed again, but said nothing, choosing to fold her hands over her stomach instead, and he took that as his cue to say his piece.

"I do not have anything substantial to offer you. I will never be a count, or an emperor, or any other lofty title you can think of. The most I can promise is that you will always have a home to return to, and once Emmanellain is installed at Camp Dragonhead, I will be the shield that follows you to the ends of Hydaelyn, for good or ill. Wherever you go, I will follow."

She smiled and reached for him, but he shook his head and pulled out the ring he had selected, a simple band with a ruby. "Please, (Y/N), marry me. We can run off and elope, if you like, though Father will be sore to have missed the occasion and -"

"We don't have to elope, Haurchefant," she assured him, coming closer and placing her hands on his. "I want to marry you. Desperately. I'll even put on a lacy dress and go echo at you in the Vault, if that will make you happy, I -"

It was Haurchefant's turn to interrupt, catching her face in both hands as he surged forward and kissed her, excited and eager for all that they might share.


	14. Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) departs to save Raubahn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a few days extra. I got sick and it wasn't pretty.

**Haurchefant**

The bedroom was almost stiflingly hot when Haurchefant woke, but he could not will himself to move. Instead he stared in abject adoration at (Y/N) where she slept on his chest, her ruby ring winking at him with captured firelight from her hand where it had come to rest beside her face. 

It was very hard not to laugh. His father had been right about the Warrior of Light bringing an avalanche - it had been barely a day and a half since they had rescued Emmanellain, yet in that time she had made a name for herself in Ishgard, had an audience with the Archbishop, refused the suit of the future Count de Borel, and accepted his. In the span of a fortnight he had gone from wishing she could meet his family to having his own father insisting they expedite the wedding with all haste, and it wasn't even because she was with child. He resolved himself to attend services more regularly; Halone truly had blessed him.

A sharp knock drew him out of the dreamy delight of his thoughts, and he said, "Who is it?" before abruptly realizing they were in _(Y/N)'s_ room, and both naked.

The page at the door coughed softly. "Count Edmont wishes to know if Lady (Y/N) will be joining everyone for breakfast."

At the sound of her name she lifted her head and groaned slightly. "I'll be there… just give me a bit to dress."

"Of course, my lady," the page replied. "I'll just go... wake Lord Haurchefant."

"You do that," he called, and then they both laughed at the sound of the boy's footsteps scurrying away.

"Shall we get up then, love?" (Y/N) asked leaning over him.

Haurchefant reached out and brushed the hair out of her face, unable to stop himself from grinning. "I suppose I must depart this heaven for a time, since the mortal world still needs my bride."

She leaned into his touch. "Well, once we're married and you have Emmanellain installed in Camp Dragonhead, I'm sure we can sneak off to Gridania or Limsa Lominsa, where we will get to be the ones who determine when it's time to get out of bed."

"As if we ever will," he said, pulling her back down for one more kiss.

* * *

The rest of the family was already seated when Haurchefant and (Y/N) entered the dining room, and she laughed in delight to see Alphinaud and Tataru there as well.

"My friends!" she said, leaving Haurchefant's side to go to them.

"I have heard that congratulations are in order," Alphinaud said, nodding pointedly toward her left hand.

"Ooh!" Tataru waved her hands excitedly. "Let me see, Let me see!"

(Y/N) held out her hand to the expectant Lalafell, who clasped it gingerly and pulled it closer to get a better look. Haurchefant, meanwhile, made himself a plate from the sideboard and took it to the table to sit beside his father. 

"Well, at last House Fortemps shall have something to celebrate. A marriage in the family. I can only hope one of your brothers will soon follow your example," Edmont said before looking pointedly at Artoirel and Emmanellain over the rim of his teacup.

"It's not as if I'm not _trying,"_ Emmanellain argued. "Lady Lanaitte has refused my advances thus far."

Artoirel, meanwhile, took his own sip of tea and said nothing, focused instead on the letters in his hand.

"What business has you so distracted, brother?" Haurchefant asked before spearing a piece of sausage with his fork.

"Father has tasked me with answering all of the invitations that have arrived for (Y/N)."

"Anyone good?" The youngest of the Fortemps brothers leaned close in an attempt to read over Artoirel's shoulder.

"That is up to (Y/N)," Artoirel snapped. "Though I doubt she'll accept any of them."

"Why do you say that?"

"None of them are from people with whom she is acquainted."

"Aah," Edmont sighed. "I really should see about introducing you two around properly, once Count de Haillenarte is done petitioning the Archbishop."

Haurchefant raised an eyebrow. "Why does that matter?"

"As Emmanellain will be taking over our presence at Camp Dragonhead, Count Baurendouin wishes to make a gift on the occasion of your wedding, in thanks for saving Francel's life."

"And he did thank me, by putting me forward to become a knight," Haurchefant said.

Edmont chuckled. "Do you think we Counts put so little value on the lives of our sons? No, he has a minor lordship that his house controls that was once a Fortemps holding many generations ago. It is well managed by the staff, but he had hoped to make it something of a gift. However, such a transfer requires the Archbishop's approval."

"You mean…"

"Exactly. You and (Y/N) will have rule over the -"

_"Executed!?"_ the Warrior of Light said, her voice carrying all the fury of Halone, and pulling the rest of the table's attention back to their guests. "I'll be damned if I let them get away with this."

"What is the trouble, my dear?" Haurchefant asked.

Ignoring that the question was not directed at him, Alphinaud answered, "A good friend of ours, General Raubahn Aldyn, is slated to be executed for crimes against the Sultanate." The boy turned his attention to (Y/N) who was already checking the straps on her armor the way she did when she was about to leave. "Though the situation calls for urgency, it would avail us little to charge headlong into Ul'dah without a plan. Before we can formulate a plan, however, we must learn how things stand in the sultanate -" Here Alphinaud stood, also securing his possessions. "- Which is why I propose that we visit Limsa Lominsa."

The two continued to discuss their plans, and Greystone froze, looking down at his breakfast in sudden revulsion. She was leaving again. Just like that, she was leaving, without -

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you have responsibilities here and at Camp Dragonhead. Otherwise I would insist you join me. Could I ask you to see to the preparations for our wedding?"

He saw the request for what it was - an attempt to ease his hurt over her sudden departure - but he knew she was right. He did have responsibilities here and the only way he could be free in the future to accompany her was to handle them now. Haurchefant reached up and placed his hand on hers where it rested on his shoulder. "When shall we get married then, love? I need to know how long I have to prepare."

"I'll stay here in Ishgard and carry on searching for clues to the others' whereabouts," Tataru interjected. "Perhaps I can help Lord Haurchefant plan the wedding for your return from Ul'dah?" 

"We wouldn't be able to secure the Vault without a fixed date…" Edmont began, but Haurchefant shook his head. 

"Let us marry here, then, when (Y/N) returns. Unless there's some issue with being married at home?"

To his surprise, Artoirel voiced support for the plan as well. "As Haurchefant is of… ah… interesting circumstance, it would be less objectionable to some of the traditionalists than a marriage in the Vault as well. And if the marriage happens _quickly_ it will give the impression it had been in the works for some time."

His father sighed and looked to the Warrior of Light. "Are you _sure?"_

Haurchefant saw the question for what it was - Count Edmont giving (Y/N) one last chance to back out, to choose Aymeric instead, before things tumbled too far out of control. He could not help himself, and turned to look at her, absolutely sure his anxiety was written across his face. But his lady love did not even spare him a glance. She leaned against the table and caught his father in her steely gaze. "I am. I deserve this happiness, and so does Haurchefant."

Edmont sighed and picked up his coffee cup. "Very well then. Do as you will. I'll have Firmien provide what assistance he can for the planning, but you will have to secure a dre-"

At the foot of the table, Tataru Taru already had a sketchbook in hand and a terrifying gleam in her eye. "Don't worry, my lord. I have that quite covered."

* * *

**Aymeric**

"I heard that woman was seen wielding Naegling at those outsiders' trial by combat," his grandfather said disapprovingly, and Aymeric winced. He rarely discussed things with Count de Borel before he did them, but in retrospect he realized his mother's family might have _opinions_ on their ancestral sword being lent out.

"Yes," he mumbled, staring intently at the bacon on his plate. If his grandfather had been truly cross he'd have woken him up rather than wait till breakfast to accost him.

_"I_ heard that this Warrior of Light has _also_ already had an audience with the Archbishop!" His grandmother supplied helpfully, and Aymeric dared to glance up. "You were there, at least according to the rumors."

"I… was, yes," he replied, and took a bite of his breakfast. 

Both of them stared expectantly, so Aymeric sighed. "His Eminence wished to apologize on behalf of the Heavens' Ward and the Church for the 'gross indignities' inflicted on (Y/N)'s friends."

_"(Y/N)'s_ friends?" the Count's eyebrows lifted. "On a first name basis, are you?"

"Yes," he sat his fork down and straightened his back. "When I spoke privately with the Archbishop he impressed upon me the importance of making sure that the Warrior of Light's loyalties were tied to Ishgard. He suggested marriage."

"Oh, Aymeric, _really?"_ His grandmother's delight was only matched by the shock on her husband's face. "I know you've been partial to her for some time, and -"

"What?" His grandfather managed to sputter out. "How long have they known each other?"

"Why, darling, (Y/N) is the one who gave him the _gardenia."_

"You mean that plant he's put in the solar and constantly fawns over."

The Countess made an exasperated clicking noise with her tongue and turned back to Aymeric. "So, are you going to propose?"

"I would like to, but I fear another holds her heart far more than I do at present time."

"Oh?" She picked up the delicate teacup and took a sip. "Who might that be?"

"Haurchefant Greystone," Aymeric conceded before taking a bite of eggs.

"Count de Fortemps's bastard with that maid?" His grandfather frowned. "He's not due to inherit a major title."

"No," he said after he swallowed. "But I fear that is part of his appeal. As (Y/N) is not Ishgardian, she cares little for our politics. In fact, until quite recently, our politics worked against her, rather than in her favor. I have been laboring to change that, but I feel that Greystone's easy-going nature and ability to leave the city whenever he pleases is something of an advantage in this case. The lady knows what the life of a Countess entails, and it is not one to which she is inclined."

"My poor boy," his grandmother began, reaching toward him, but Aymeric held up a hand. 

"Please, it is no matter. So long as she is happy I will be content." It was a lie, but a pretty one that he would tell himself until he could pry her out of Haurchefant's arms. "His Eminence does not particularly care which family she marries into, so long as they are loyal Ishgardians." The clock in the hall chimed the hour and he sighed. "I fear I must be off, I have a number of meetings today." 

His grandfather nodded absently while Aymeric bent and pressed a kiss to his grandmother's cheek, then headed out into the blinding light of the Ishgardian sun.

* * *

"Anything else?" Aymeric asked Lucia after she'd gone over his itinerary for the day. It was going to be an abysmal day of meetings interspersed with equally abysmal paperwork. He knew the yearly budget had to be finished, and he was too punctilious by nature to not go over it with a fine-toothed comb.

"Haurchefant has asked if he might have an appointment to speak with you."

He snorted as he organized the papers on his desk with regards to which meeting they were for. "Doesn't he usually just walk in whenever he pleases?"

"That's what I asked the page he sent, but all the boy said it was a formal visit for a formal request."

That had Aymeric looking up from his paperwork, and the way Lucia's lips were pressed together in a thin line told him all he needed to know. "Of the events on my itinerary, which _absolutely_ have to occur today?"

So it was that Aymeric found himself with the afternoon free, and he sent word that Haurchefant could meet him in the training grounds at the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. It seemed his friend was not an idiot either, for he did not come unarmored or unarmed.

"Good Afternoon, Lord Commander," Haurchefant said formally. "I have come with news, and a request." He licked his lips, and glanced around the ring. "Though I am not sure such happy news is best delivered in a sparring ring."

"Well, if it is not the news I suspect, then we shall adjourn to my office for celebratory brandy," Aymeric snapped. "Perhaps… I don't know… Emmanellain has made something of himself at last."

Haurchefant set his jaw. "Leave my brother out of this. It's between you and I."

Itching to reach for Naegling already, Aymeric chuckled darkly. "Then tell me your 'happy news,' Haurchefant."

"(Y/N) has gone to Ul'dah, and -"

Aymeric cut him off. "She's wanted for _regicide_ and you let her go unescorted?" Naegling seemed to spring into existence in his hand. "I had thought you had a modicum of care for her well being, but it seems Halone helps those who help themselves; I'll kill you myself and answer all my own prayers."

Something flickered in Haurchefant's expression, and he strapped his shield to his left arm with deliberate precision as he said, "Well, if you plan to murder me regardless, I suppose I should also inform you that she and I are to be married upon her return."

"If she returns. You very well may have let her go to die."

"You have so little faith in her," Haurchefant said, and drew his sword. "I suppose this was inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Apparently," Aymeric agreed, and charged him. His first swing bounced off Haurchefant's shield, but the momentum carried him forward and he barrelled Greystone into the wall. Bringing up Naegling for another swing was a mistake, as the other man's blade whipped around towards his side, forcing him to jump back. "You can't blame me for falling in love with her."

Haurchefant moved to the offensive, using his shield to knock aside Aymeric's blade and leave openings for his own, but the Lord Commander was too quick on his feet to be so easily caught out. "That's the problem, Aymeric. You didn't fall in love with her." 

Anger tore through him at his old friend's denial of his affections, and he bore down on him again, but Haurchefant continued. "You _crashed_ into love with her. You gave no thought to the damage your attraction would wreak on the world around you and let yourself collapse into it like Dalamud into Carteneau."

"And you thought about it?" he argued. They traded blows in a familiar staccato, near indecipherable from the hand-clapping games of young girls save the ringing of sharpened steel. "You weighed the benefits and costs before you bedded her?"

"Of course I did. That night she was alone and terrified and in desperate want of solace. I already knew I longed to wed her. I just moved around the timetable for her sake." 

Another swing from Naegling that slammed into Haurchefant's shield, finally scratching the well-crafted steel. "What do you want from me, then? You're getting her. She chose you. Did you just come here to rub it in my face?" He slammed Naegling's point into the ground and leaned on it, breathing heavily.

Falling back against the stone wall, Haurchefant let his arms fall limply to his sides. He was breathing just as hard. "No, I came to ask you to stand at my side when I wed her. If anyone will take me to task for breaking my vows, it will be you." He reached up with his shield arm, wiping sweat from his face. "Will you do it?"

Aymeric laughed. "Your cruelty knows no bounds."

"Did you mean it?" Haurchefant asked. "Do you truly pray for my death?"

"Every prayer of mine carries four riders - the health and well-being of my family, the health and well-being of Ishgard, the health and well-being of the woman I love, and the untimely death of the man who's taking her out of my reach." He scowled.

To Aymeric's shock, Greystone laughed. "The son of the Archbishop himself prays for my demise… Yet here I am, still alive. I think I'll have to make services a daily habit."

"Why is it you can always find the best in any situation? Why are you such an unrelenting optimist? You should hate me." After running a hand through his hair Aymeric pulled Naegling from the ground and sheathed it. "You should be cautioning her not to speak or interact with me."

"Why?" Haurchefant asked gently. "Why would I do that, when your love for her means you are one of the only people in this city I can trust to protect her from anything that happens?"

"What?"

"You promised me - if anything happened to me, you would take care of her. Aymeric, I'm _relying_ on that, even now. I want to be a good husband to her. So I have no qualms asking you to stand up for me at the wedding, because you will hold me to every one of my vows on pain of death. Knowing you are watching and waiting will force me to be the best husband I possibly can." Haurchefant swallowed anxiously. "And if Halone should choose to grant your prayers, I know that same love that drives you to despise me - _me,_ your friend - will ensure that my wife is protected and cared for as long as you draw breath."

"I hate you," Aymeric blurted out.

Greystone dipped his head, conceding the point. "Will you do it?"

"Halone help me, I will."


End file.
